


All I Ask of You

by QueenofCamelot



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Forbidden Love, Impersonation, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Past Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-18 09:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18118055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofCamelot/pseuds/QueenofCamelot
Summary: Phantom of the Opera AU. It is Paris, 1870. Armitage Hux has always dreamed of being the star of the Opera House. After having manipulated his way into the lead role, Hux’s exquisite singing voice captures the admiration of the mysterious Phantom, Kylo Ren. A correspondence between the two begins via letter. When Hux’s position is threatened, Hux and his bloodthirsty admirer will stop at nothing to ensure he keeps it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very (very) late Kylux Big Bang 2018 fic.
> 
> Thank you to Christine (zaera-d.tumblr.com) for being an awesome KBB partner and creating such beautiful art for our project. 
> 
> Thank you also to Mandy (aiambia.tumblr.com) for being an incredible beta. You've helped me improve so much as a writer, and the quality of this fic would be significantly weaker without your suggestions. 
> 
> Lastly, thank you to my sister (deepinsidethetrashcan.tumblr.com) for encouraging me to write this fic. Who would've thought that us watching Phantom together would lead to this? 
> 
> My blog is kyloisabitch.tumblr.com, and I'm always up for talking about Kylux and/or Phantom of the Opera. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic :)

_Paris, 1870_

In the mid-afternoon, Hux received the invitation he’d waited his whole life for. He sat by the fireplace in his room, engrossed in a book about 15th century warfare, when a knock had sounded at his door. His gaze flickered up at the door, glaring at it. Returning to his book, he skimmed the rest of the page, then marked his place with a strip of needlework. He closed the book with a sigh, placing it down on a side table.

He knew it was Phasma. She was the closest thing to a friend he had in the Opera House, or if truth be told, in his life, and the only person who would ever bother to call on him. He didn’t have time for friends – they would only serve to cut into his rehearsals, bore him with unnecessary details, and drag him along to places he’d rather not go. Phasma was the exception, only because she entertained him with her gossip, and the only place she wanted to drag him away to was the bar.

He made his way to the door, quickening his pace when they knocked yet again.

“I’m almost there,” he called out. When finally he opened the door, he found himself face to face not with Phasma, but with the Opera House’s concierge, Madame Kanata. He stared at the tiny woman, unsure as to why she was standing outside his front door. She was quick to state her business.

“Good afternoon, Monsieur Hux. Monsieur Krennic and Monsieur Erso wish to see you right away.”

Hux held his tongue, trying his best not to smile. Lando Calrissian, the lead tenor of the opera, and the man who Hux was understudy to, missed rehearsal three times that week. Hux hoped there was something more serious at play than just a cough, and this only confirmed it. He could think of no other reason why the managers would need to see him. Today was the day he’d been waiting his whole life for, the day his talents were finally recognised. All those rehearsals, the days as a child shut away in his room to practice, they were all worth it.

Hux held his tongue, but he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.

“I will see to them right away,” Hux promised her. She nodded back at him, then went on her way, her message delivered.

Hux retrieved his room key from his coat pocket and locked the door firmly behind him. He then very calmly walked to the managers’ office. Despite the hour, the hallway was quiet. Only one gentleman, a tall bearded man, leant against its walls, smoking a cigar. Hux smiled at him as he walked past, but the man ignored him (or gave an odd look). It did nothing to damper Hux’s good spirits.

He wondered how he would accept the managers’ offer. He didn’t want to seem too eager, nor did he want to seem unbothered by their proposal. After all, he had dignity, but he also didn’t want to risk them giving the role to someone inferior. He supposed he’d shake their hands and smile, thanking for them the opportunity. Yes, that seemed like the most respectable way.

When he turned into the main foyer, there were considerably more people. Most milled about in different directions while others simply stood around engaged in conversation near the grand stairwell. A thrill shot through him when he realised that before long, his entry into a room would gather stares of admiration rather than indifference. For once, people would notice him.

Finally, Hux found himself at the door of his managers’ office. He took a deep breath, making sure to straighten his posture before knocking on the door. He barely had to wait thirty seconds before the door swung open to reveal Monsieur Erso. The man’s eyes were bright and his smile friendly.

“Ah, Mr. Hux, thank you for arriving so promptly, come in, come in.” He ushered Hux in, shutting the door behind them.

The managers’ office was smaller than Hux expected but full of the usual comforts of those financially well off. There were two desks at the back of the room, several cabinets, and in the centre, on top of a red rug, was a small table, bordered by four small armchairs, two of which being occupied by Monsieur Krennic, and to Hux’s surprise, Poe Dameron.

Though they’d crossed paths many times, Hux did not know Poe very well. Though he was only another chorus tenor, Poe Dameron was a crowd favourite; charming to all he met. Hux had only ever spoken a few words to him, likely to tell him to get out of his way.

So then, Poe must be his new understudy. It was a logical choice for an understudy. The managers always seemed to pay more attention to Poe than the other chorus members, though Hux always assumed they just liked his smile.

Monsieur Krennic and Poe stood up when Hux and Monsieur Erso approached them. Monsieur Erso clapped his hands together. “All right, now that we’ve got you both present, we have some sad, but also exciting news.”

Hux’s heart thrummed in anticipation.

“As you may have noticed, Monsieur Calrissian has been quite ill, as of late, with a throat infection,” Monsieur Krennic said. He frowned, as if Monsieur Calrissian’s illness personally offended him. “His doctor has warned that straining his voice any further could have disastrous consequences.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Poe asked. The concern seeping into his voice sounded genuine, but Hux doubted that was the case. Poe couldn’t possibly have gotten this far in the business with such sentiment.

“He will take up residence by the sea. The sea breeze has been known to work miracles, or so I’ve heard.” Monsieur Erso smiled, a stark contrast to Monsieur Krennic’s dour mood.

Poe smiled. “Well let us hope it does just that.” Hux rolled his eyes.

“As do we all. Now, to the matter at hand,” Monsieur Krennic said, ushering the conversation along. “We need someone to replace Monsieur Calrissian. We cannot be without a star.”

Hux’s lips curved up into a smile. This was it – this was his moment he’d waiting his whole life for. He wished his father was alive to see it, to realize he’d been wrong, that Hux was capable of so much more than he’d assumed.

“And so we’re pleased to inform that Monsieur Dameron will be our star!” Monsieur Erso clapped his hands together. “Congratulations Monsieur Dameron!”

“Me?” Poe asked, shocked.

“What?” Hux muttered, horrified. He could only watch as Poe took _his_ congratulations, _his_ handshakes, _his_ celebration.

How could this have happened? This had to be a mistake. He was Lando’s understudy, not Poe.

Then the confusion hardened into fury.

How _dare_ they.

Hux had given everything he was to them. He gave days, weeks, months of his life to rehearsals and practices. He had fulfilled their every demand, sticking to Lando more firmly than his own shadow could ever dream to. He had turned down opportunities to sing at balls, for nobility, as the lead at lesser opera houses, all with the hope that one day he would stand on the stage of the Paris Opera House as its star.

What gall the managers had to deny him of a position that’d he so clearly deserved, in favour of a man who had five years less experience than Hux. A man whose voice still sounded like a choir boy’s.

It had to be a mistake. The managers couldn’t be that foolish. He knew it was their first venture into the arts business, but even a tone-deaf beggar could comprehend that Hux was more suited to the role of the star than Poe Dameron.

“Forgive me,” Hux said, trying to keep his composure. It would do him no favours to upset his managers, regardless of how moronic they were.

All three of the men turned to face him. Hux’s fists clenched at the look of joy on Poe’s face. He took a deep breath before speaking.

“As Monsieur Lando’s understudy, I presumed that I would be taking his place.”

The two managers stared at him as if the words he uttered were gibberish. Poe on the other hand, looked away and ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. If nothing else, he had the decency to be embarrassed about stealing Hux’s role.

It was Krennic who replied, eyes narrowed. “We have not made this choice lightly. Our eyes have been on Monsieur Dameron for quite some time.”

Hux bit back a curse, feeling his whole body tremble with rage. Rae Sloane, his old manager, would never have let her sights fall so low.

“Of course, you will retain your position of understudy,” Erso said gently, as if such a thing would reassure Hux. “If Monsieur Dameron is ill, or some unfortunate event befalls him, you will take his place. Temporarily, of course.”

Wouldn’t that be unfortunate? Hux wished he could wrap his hands around Poe’s throat and squeeze until there was no air left for him respire, until he heard the thud of Poe’s body hitting the floor when Hux let go.

Hux’s jaw clenched. “I’m sure you know what’s best.”

Krennic’s eyes were cold as ice. “We do indeed, Monsieur Hux.”

He stared Krennic down, wanting his displeasure known even if he wasn’t in a position to scream it into the man’s face. Krennic remained unphased, unintimidated.

“Now now,” Galen said loudly, trying to dissipate the tension in the air. It did little more than cause Krennic to look away. “We plan to announce Monsieur Dameron as our new star to the rest of the cast tomorrow at rehearsals, but I dare say the word will spread long before then.”

Poe laughed. The sound was a bit strained. “My friends will be unable to keep their mouths shut, you can count on that.”

Poe wasn’t being dramatic. He had a great number of friends, and the majority of them were loud and boisterous. Or as Hux liked to say, impulsive and irritating.

“It is exciting news, to be sure.” Monsieur Erso winked at him. Poe smiled, relaxing.

“Do you have any questions?” Monsieur Krennic asked, checking his pocket watch.

Hux had a fair few such as:

_How is this fair?_

And:

_How could Rae Sloane entrust the Opera House to you complete imbeciles?_

Or even:

_What point had they to call Hux in, other than to humiliate him?_

But he pressed his lips tightly together and shook his head.

“Just thank you for this opportunity,” Poe told them.

“You’re quite welcome,” Erso replied. “That’s all we had to say gentleman, you may now go.”

Hux stalked out of the room without another word, hearing the soft footsteps of Poe behind him. He walked without a destination in mind, still too frustrated.

“Hey Hux,” Poe called out. He considered pretending he hadn’t heard but a part of him was curious as to what Poe wanted to say to him. Gritting his teeth, he stopped and turned on his heel. Poe jumped back, not expecting Hux to stop so suddenly.

“Yes?” Hux asked.

Poe’s cheeks were pink. “I just want you to know I didn’t ask for them to do that. I had no idea they were going to pick me.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Hux said. He put on a polite smile, but didn’t believe a word Poe said.

“I swear, I had no idea,” Poe insisted. “I thought for certain that they were going to pick you. _You_ were Lando’s understudy after all.”

Hux raised an eyebrow. If he could see the injustice in the situation, perhaps Poe wasn’t as clueless as Hux had assumed him to be. Nevertheless, that doesn’t change what happened.

“What’s done is done,” Hux said bitterly. “I hope you enjoy the role.”

“Well uh, I was going to go out for a drink to celebrate,” Poe said, a little awkwardly. “Would you like to come?”

Hux stared at him, shocked. Could he really not tell how much Hux wanted to kill him right now? (Or that no one had invited him out in years.) He couldn’t think of anything he’d hate more than forcing himself to share a drink with Poe, unless it involved poisoning that drink.

He shook his head. “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just go back to my room.”

Poe raised his hands and smiled. Damn that smile. That’s how he stole Hux’s role. “That’s okay. No hard feelings. I’m sure Finn will be up for a drink.”

“No doubt,” Hux replied. Of course, Finn would. He and Poe were inseparable.

“I’ll see you later then.” Poe waved at him, before heading in the direction of the theatre. Hux waved back, glad to be rid of him.

The walk back to his room seemed a mile long. He felt foolish as he passed people by in the foyer, certain that they could sense his failure. Worse than that was the ever-persisting voice of his father throbbing in his head.

Every few steps he took was a new reprimand.

_How could you ever think you could be any better than an understudy?_

_You shame me._

_You should give up this ridiculous dream already and pursue something actually worthwhile._

_You are a disgrace._

When he reached the hallway where his room was, he noticed that the man before was gone, the hallway now an empty vastness. He walked over to his door, fumbling for his keys in his coat pocket. He tried to put it in the lock but realised his hand was shaking. After a few tries he finally got it in and the door opened with a click.

_Yes retreat to your room._

He stood in the doorway for a moment, unsure what to do. Then he pushed the door shut behind him, and stalked straight to the liquor cabinet. He needed to stop thinking of his father, to stop thinking of his failure, to forget about all of it.

He pulled out a bottle of brandy and sat himself in his arm chair by the fireplace, uncorking it and bringing it to his lips.

_Pathetic._

“Shut up!” he cried to an empty room. Brandy sloshed out of the bottle and onto his clothes as he swung his fists at nothing. Perhaps his father was right. Here he was indulging in a drink of brandy, instead of working to solve his problem.

But how could he fix a problem such as this? He couldn’t make the managers place him in the main role. He only could hope a mysterious accident would befall Poe. There had been some rather strange happenings around the opera house as of late. Whispers of tapestries falling onto ballerinas, props disappearing and candles being extinguished in the absence of wind.

To Hux’s amusement, most people blamed it on a Phantom, of all things, who haunts the opera day and night, causing mayhem here and there. Hux didn’t believe any of these incidents were anything more than coincidences, and he certainly didn’t believe in ghosts. The idea was ludicrous. Someone could be bloody murdered and people would blame the phantom instead of searching for the real culprit.

Hux’s lips curled into a smile.

That was it!

Why wait for an imaginary phantom to solve all his problems for him, when he could easily remove Poe himself? All blame would be shifted to the Phantom and he would have his role.

But how could he do it?

He put the liquor aside – it would only cloud his mind – and leant back in his chair. He wished he could jot down his ideas, but it would be foolish to leave any kind of evidence behind. A piece of burnt parchment could be put back together, but Hux’s mind could not be penetrated.

The possibilities were endless. He could ruin Poe’s voice somehow, render him useless like Lando, but how exactly would he go about doing that? Was there some kind of liquid he could give him? A toxin he could expose him to? No. He’d run the risk of actually killing Poe, and what fun is revenge if not to let Poe watch him take back what is rightfully his?

Or he could cause Poe to break his leg? They couldn’t hire a star who couldn’t dance around the stage. But how could he do that without Poe seeing it was him? He could hire someone! But what if one of Poe’s adoring fans has enough money to pay an investigator? Hux would be done for.

Perhaps he could write a letter, proclaiming Poe’s father deathly ill. But Hux didn’t know anything about Poe’s family. For all he knew, Poe could be fatherless.

He rubbed his hand against his face. This wasn’t nearly as simple as he’d first thought. But there had to be something. Some way. He wasn’t going to settle for being the understudy. The star role was his right and he was going to claim it.

Perhaps he could…

A knock at the door disrupted Hux from his thoughts.

“What?” he yelled out, irritated. He resolved to let them keep knocking. He wasn’t going to move until he’d come up with a solution. Despite his resolve not to have any visitors, the door swung open anyhow to reveal Phasma.

She walked in without an invitation, tall and imposing, her purple frock dragging on the ground behind her. She didn’t bother taking a seat, coming to a stop about a metre from Hux.

“I heard you received some bad news,” she said, arms crossed.

“And I suppose you’ve come to comfort me?” Hux asked, bitterly.

He wished he could tell her that he was going to fix it, that this injustice would not stand for long. If she actually cared for him, perhaps even ask her for ideas, but Hux knew she’d use that information against him in a heartbeat if it helped her advance further in the opera house hierarchy. Anything to get ahead. Not that he was any different.

“I thought you might be in need of a drink.”

Hux held up the bottle he’d left on the desk. “I’ve got one right here.”

Phasma shook her head. “No. You are not drinking alone. Come with me.”

Hux sighed. “Do I have a choice in the matter?” Generally, when it came to Phasma, he never did.

She raised an eyebrow. She took a step closer, looming over him. “What do you think?”

Hux got to his feet, hands up in the air. “Alright, alright. I’m on my way. Where are we going exactly?”

“The bar of course. Drinking alone is pathetic. I can’t let you fall into social ruin. What sort of friend would I be if I allowed that?”

He didn’t see a difference either way, but he also didn’t see a point to arguing with her.

“If you say so,” he grumbled, following her out of the room.

 

 ...

 

At two o clock in the afternoon, the bar was quite empty. Most of the stools at the bar were vacant and he could only see two bartenders. It was a rather nice bar with a rich red carpet and dark wooden panelling, stunning paintings from areas around Paris Hux had never seen hanging on the walls behind the bar.

His jaw clenched when he noticed Poe sitting near the front of the bar with Finn, the two in close conversation. He’d known he was going to be here, but the sight of him angered him even more than he expected it would.

The bar was rather small, and so despite Hux making sure that he and Phasma took a seat as far away from Poe as he could, he could still hear Poe. That and the fact that inebriated or not, Poe always made sure his voice was heard.

“What drink do you want?” Phasma asked him.

“Oh, it's best if you order. Let me loose, and the bartender will be scandalised,” Hux told her, smirking.

Phasma laughed. “I’ve bought so many drinks from him that he won’t even bat an eye. Now what do you want?”

Hux told her, and she walked over to the bar. Hux tried to look anywhere but at Poe or his companion, trying to make himself think of the last time he’d been here. Oh yes, Phasma had wanted to celebrate turning down yet another marriage proposal.

He preferred drinking alone to drinking at the bar, even if he did enjoy Phasma’s company. In the silence of his own room, there was no chance of alcohol loosening his tongue, or at least no chance that anyone would hear him.

He shuddered to think of what he would say if he let himself drink too much. There were secrets he had that would ruin him.

He resolved he would share one drink with Phasma then be on his way. He had an accident to plan.

Phasma returned with two full glasses of beer, placing them on the table with only a bit of foam escaping. Hux took a large sip, some of the froth sticking to his lips. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

Phasma took a sip of her own. “I don’t know what’s more bitter. This drink or you.”

Hux glared at her. “You know I deserve the lead role more than Poe. I was Lando’s fucking understudy.”

“Yes, and you’re a far better singer.”

Hux was surprised but pleased at her praise but tried not to show it. “You understand why I’m so frustrated then.”

“Yes, but you can’t exactly do anything about it”

Hux clenched his glass tighter, not caring about how cold it felt against his palm. If only she knew. “No, but I’m still allowed to be angry about it.”

“Of course,” Phasma agreed. “That’s exactly why we are here. Spill your woes to me.”

He supposed he wouldn’t get another opportunity - he didn’t talk to anyone else.  
He took another sip of his drink, glancing at Poe. He was laughing at something Finn had said, the sound grating in Hux’s ears.

“He said it came as a complete surprise!” Hux said. “ That he had no idea this would happen. As if he hasn’t been gunning for my spot for years. The worst part is, he’s not even smug about it. He told me that even he found it unfair that he was picked over me. Who does that? What sort of man is Poe?”

“A decent one,” Phasma said. Hux opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off before he could. “Decent but stupid. People like that never watch their backs.”

He hoped to god she had no idea what he was planning. He tried to divert her. “Are you suggesting that the Phantom is going to sneak up on him one day?”

Phasma snorted. “You and I both know that is a load of rubbish. I would sooner sneak up on him than a ghost would.”

“What, you’ve had no ghostly encounters?” Hux teased.

“My mother claimed to have seen the ghost of my grandfather, but she also claimed that she could see the future, so you can see how worthwhile her opinion is to me.” Phasma rolled her eyes. “What about you, have you seen any ghosts?”

“Can’t say I have,” Hux replied. “And I can certainly say I never will.”

“Much agreed.”

Phasma finished off her drink, leaving it on the table for the bartender to retrieve.

“I’m going to get another drink, would you like one?”

“I’m fine,” he said. He hadn’t even finished the first.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back in a moment.”

She made her way over to the bar. Hux settled back in his seat and was disgruntled to find that he could hear Poe’s voice again, now that he was no longer talking to Phasma. Not just that, but he could pick out every word Poe was saying.

He wished someone would kill him right there. Why hadn’t Phasma just left him in peace in his room where he could pretend Poe Dameron had never been born?

“I’m a little nervous for my first performance, there’s going to be so many people there, you know,” Poe said.

“You’ll do amazing,” Finn told him. “Everyone’s going to love you.”

“I hope so. I’ve got your support at the very least.”

“You sure do. I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

Finn’s earnest words sent a spike of anxiety down Hux’s spine. He had long suspected there was something a little more than friendship between Poe and Finn, and the emotion behind Finn’s words only seemed to put credence to this theory.

It wasn’t the most incriminating evidence he’d noticed; the close touches they often shared were far worse. How could they be so careless? Did they not realise what it would mean if they were caught? That it could ruin Poe’s career, result in imprisonment, and possibly even execution if they were caught?

Hux would never let himself be so careless, despite his urges. He would never allow anyone the chance to hold information like that against him. Not even Phasma.

Hux knew very well that even if he were wrong, and Poe and Finn were not romantically involved, a rumor suggesting the contrary would ruin them both could very well give Hux what he desired. But there had to be some other way to ruin Poe. He would not have Poe imprisoned for something that should not be a crime.

He was so lost in his thoughts, in feeling miserable about the unfairness of it all, that he missed the next couple of words Poe and Finn shared. He forced himself to listen carefully again. Perhaps there would be something else Poe would reveal.

“Is your family going to come to your performance?” Finn asked.

Hux perked up. Family. Now, that was a topic he could play to his advantage.

“My father will. He is very proud of the progress I have made, I cannot wait to tell him just how far I’ve advanced.” Poe said.

“His pride is well placed.” Finn said. “What of your mother?”

Poe’s voice went even quieter and Hux had to strain to hear. “She is…too unwell to leave the institution, let alone come to my performance.”

“Could they not make an exception, so that she may see her only son perform?”

“She could have an epileptic fit, they would deem it as too much of a risk.”

Hux didn’t hear Finn’s reply, he was too caught up by what Poe had admitted to. His heart raced, knowing he may just very well have found his solution.

Poe’s mother suffered episodes, and was forbidden from interacting with the public. Such illnesses were often genetic, and Poe could very well have inherited her illness, even if he didn’t show any signs of it yet.

If the public knew of Poe’s genetic disposition, it would cause an absolute scandal. The managers wouldn’t want such bad press, particularly given Poe hadn’t even had his first performance yet. They would have to replace him, and who better to replace him then Hux?

He had to get to his room right away.

He stared at the blank piece of paper on his desk, quill in hand – now that he finally knew what he had to do, he couldn’t think of the exact phrasing to use. He supposed it didn’t really matter. The press would prey on any words he gave them, be them true or not. All they cared about was that their papers were being bought, and the piece of information Hux had about Poe, would definitely achieve that.

With that thought in mind, he simply wrote what came to mind, taking care to make the letters seem bigger and less neat than his usually were.  
 

_Dear Writers of Le Temps,_

_Poe Dameron, the new star of the Paris Opera House, is harbouring a dark secret. One that is unseemly for a star of any establishment to possess. It has come to my attention that his mother is a patient in a mental institution, suffering from an ailment that causes episodes. To my knowledge these episodes cause her to writhe uncontrollably, unaware of her location or even her own identity. I am confident that your sources are capable of finding the precise asylum to verify my information._

_I think then, it is safe to assume, that Dameron too, may suffer from the same ailment. I would hate to see him have an episode on stage, in front of all those people. Do with this information what you will._

_Sincerely,_

_A concerned worker at the opera_

 

Reading over his response a couple of times over and satisfied with what he’d written, he copied the letter word for word, only changing the addressee – it would be a test of who could publish the story the fastest.

Then he sat back in his chair, satisfied with his course of action.

Hux hoped Poe had enjoyed his day of being the star of the opera house, for he would never get the chance again.

The position was Hux’s. And once Hux had it, he wasn’t going to let anyone take it from him.

It was a couple of days before the letters he sent arrived and achieved their desired affect. He was on his way to rehearsal when he heard a huge ruckus coming from the foyer. There was a peculiar pounding sound, almost but not quite drowned out by the sound of many people chattering.

He entered the foyer only to find that he heavy pounding was someone – or a number of people – banging on the front door of the opera from the outside. The foyer was so full of people huddled together in separate groups talking, that it was hard for Hux to breathe.

He tried not to smile when he saw what they were holding. He was too far away from any of the groups to read the article, but the header of the newspaper on the front page was so large it screamed at him.

**Poe Dameron: Opera Sensation or a Danger to the Public?**

It looked like his plan had worked quite nicely.

He was to be the star!

He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest, and that he could smile for the rest of his days, but he couldn’t act too happy.

No one could know he had played a role in this.

He forced himself to put on an air of confusion and he approached a group of women, he was pretty sure were the opera’s ballerinas.

“Excuse me,” he said as loudly as he could over the chatter and the pounding of the door. The ballerinas turned to him, their faces pinched in confusion. He supposed this was rather out of character for him.

“What is going on?” he asked them.

A dainty girl with russet skin and curly black hair answered him. “Poe Dameron is mentally unsound. Can you believe it?”

“Mentally unsound?” he asked, making sure to widen his eyes.

Before the girl could answer, there was a loud shout of “Everyone” that caused everyone to quieten and stare at the stairwell. The only sound left was the pounding of the door.

It was Finn walking down the stairs, a look of absolute fury on his face.

“How can you all stand around and talk like this?” he asked, staring them all down. “How can you accuse Poe of something you have no proof of?”

The ballerina Hux had been talking to before he’d been interrupted raised her voice. “You can’t deny that those sort of illnesses are genetic.”

“Even if they are, he hasn’t had one episode. You are basing your claims off nothing,” Finn shouted.

Hux frowned – with a display like this, the two were practically begging to get caught. He wondered what it was like to care about someone like that, to put yourself out there so publically just to save the other person shame. It seemed like a terrible weakness to Hux. Still, as much as he wanted Poe out of the picture, he could only hope that their secret did not share the limelight.

“I’d rather not take my chances around him,” the girl replied. A number of people murmured in agreement.

Finn shook his head. “You all disgust me.”

His eyes then swept over the whole crowd, casting judgement on them all. When his eyes met Hux’s, Hux hoped he was imagining that they narrowed a bit, as if he knew something he shouldn’t.

Everyone went back to their conversations, uninterested in what else he had to say. Hux watched him enter the crowd and felt even more unease when he realised Finn was walking in his direction.

Finn stared him down and Hux realised that yes, yes he was intending to speak with Hux. He stopped just as he reached him.

“Hux, a word,” he said shortly.

Not wanting him to reveal anything, not that he could possibly know anything, he had no choice but to follow Finn to an empty corridor.

“I know you had something to do with all of this,” Finn snarled at him.

“What are you talking about?” Hux said, hoping Finn couldn’t hear the fear in his voice.

“You are the only person who has motive to do something like this, and the only person with enough coldness to actually do it.”

“Are you suggesting that I…”

“I am certain you played some role in this plot, and when I find out how, you’ll be lucky to be a stage hand, let alone an understudy,” Finn told him. He then stormed off.

Hux stared after him, his throat tight. He’d left no evidence to incriminate himself. There was no way Finn would find out, no matter how determined he seemed.

 

... 

 

More than half of the cast were late to rehearsal and Poe did not show up at all. Being his understudy, naturally Hux had to take Poe’s place. He took great pleasure in singing his songs, knowing that any moment now the managers would send for him. Soon he would sing for a real crowd. A crowd that would call his name and demand to meet him.

It wasn’t until after rehearsals had finished that Madam Kanata scurried over to him to tell him that the managers were expecting to see him at once. He walked as quickly as he could to their office, trying to keep all excitement off his face.

He took a few deep breaths before he knocked on their door. Monsieur Erso ushered him in, hands shaking as he shut the door behind them. Monsieur Krennic was standing by his desk, tapping his fingers against the wood. When he saw Hux, he did not move, he merely ceased his tapping. Hux was relieved to see that this time Poe was not present.

Monsieur Erso spoke first. “Thank you for coming so promptly, Monsieur Hux,”

“It seems you are needed much sooner than anticipated,” Monsieur Krennic said bluntly.

Hux felt a flicker of irritation that they seemed so displeased with the turn of events. Did they really think so low of him? They would be singing a different song when he made them more money than the banks could hold.

“Is Poe not to sing?” Hux asked.

“The scandal surrounding Monsieur Dameron is…unfortunate. We cannot afford to let it affect ticket sales. He was very understanding when we sent for him this morning.”

Hux doubted that. The man was probably holed up in his room, ashamed to be seen, drinking the strongest substance he possessed, just as Hux had a couple of days prior. He felt a sharp sense of satisfaction at the thought of that.

“Performances begin in a week so you will not have much time to prepare. Can you do us proud, Armitage?”

Erso said the words almost desperately.

“I am certain I can, gentlemen.”

Then he smiled, wide and authentic.

He had finally made it.

 

...

  

A week flew by. Hux practiced at every waking moment. When the day came, he sat in his dressing room, waiting for the knock on his door and the announcement that the production was to begin.

He felt nervous. He’d worked so hard for this moment, but now that it was here he felt sick, as if it everything was going to collapse.

Was he as good as he thought he was? Instead of cheering for him, would they laugh and boo him off the stage? Was this all for nothing?

The more he thought about it, the more his stomach churned and he feared the feeling would persist as he performed on stage. He’d never had stage fright like this before a performance before. But then again, he’d never been the star of a production before either.

He hoped Phasma wouldn’t visit him before the performance. He didn’t want her to see him like this, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself well enough to convince her of his well-being. The last time he saw her was when she had visited him following his announcement as the star. She’d seemed suspicious but didn’t outright accuse him of anything, unlike Finn.

When he imagined a crowd of displeased opera goers booing him off the stage, he knew Finn would have one of the loudest voices. But not the loudest.

No, the loudest voice was reserved for his father. He could already hear him now, prior to the performance.

_You are going to disgrace the Hux household._

_How dare you dream yourself capable of such a task._

_You should resign at once._

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to listen to him, trying to focus out on evening his breathing which was spiralling out of control.

One breath in.

One breath out.

A knock sounded at the door.

It was time.

 ...

 

The feeling grew even worse as he stood behind the curtain, waiting for the production to begin. As the star, he opened and closed the act. He could feel the sweat dampening his brow, feel his head throbbing in protest due to the lack of oxygen it was receiving.

This was his dream. How could he let his control slip so easily? It was his dream. That was why it mattered so much. Then the curtain lifted and he had no more time for thought.

He opened his mouth and sang.

Every note was sure and strong, every rhythm flowed with grace. Where his mind brought anxiety, his heart brought him peace. All thoughts faded away and all he could feel was the emotion of the song.

The music possessed him, held him captive. All that existed was him and the music. Suddenly, his voice was not his own, but the voice of the man who lost his sweetheart. He was there with that childhood love whom was lost, then found, then lost again. He wept as they left, begging them: “Think of me. Think of me fondly when we’ve said goodbye.”

Tears formed in his eyes as his hands trembled. He felt that pain as if it was his own. A tenderness he had never known but had manifested through song. His tears fell with the final notes of the song.  
  
For a terrifying moment, there was no sound but the pounding of Hux's heart in his chest.  
  
Then came the thunderous applause.  
  
The audience stood, giving him a standing ovation.  
  
He had done it. His father, the managers, they were all so wrong. His singing was worthy of a star. He had proved them wrong. His hard work was all for something.  
  
Joy burning brightly inside him, like nothing ever had before. And he doubted anything ever would again.

 

...

  

When he returned to his room that night after the performance, he was pleased to see a great number of flowers covering every inch of his desk. Maz must have put them there while he’d been at the after party.

One in particular stood out to him. A single rose laid on his bed, accompanied by a small envelope.. He picked up the rose, lifting it to his nose and breathing in its sweet scent. Then he retrieved his letter opener from his desk – a small thing with a cat carved into its top – and opened the envelope, his breath stilling in anticipation of the contents of the letter.

He almost dropped the letter when he read what was inside it.

 

_Dearest Armitage Hux,_   
  


_Your performance this evening was marvellous. My heart raced with every note that fell from your lips. Your voice rivals Poe Dameron’s in every possible way._ _  
  
  
_ _The Phantom of the Opera_


	2. Chapter 2

Hux stared at the letter, unsure what to make of it.  
  
_My heart raced with every note that fell from your lips._  
  
Someone loved his voice.

Someone loved it enough to take the time to write to Hux about it. Not only that, but they phrased it as if they were smitten with him.

For the first time in a long while, Hux smiled. It was not a smile of spite, nor a smile of satisfaction, but of joy that he was admired by someone, in one way or another.

His smile lasted only a moment, however. Just until he considered another, far more likely possibility that the letter was a practical joke. It was signed from the Phantom of the Opera after all. What nonsense!

Hux brushed his fingers over the dried ink. But how odd it is that the Phantom’s words seemed so genuine. The letter had been accompanied by such a beautiful rose. Perhaps they wished to conceal their identity. Though, if that’s the case, they didn’t have to be so dramatic. While a little drama can be appropriate from time to time – Hux was in the arts after all – to impersonate a vengeful ghost was a step too far in.

Still, he appreciated the gesture, as outlandish as it was.

After smelling the rose, he left it and the letter on his bedside table, a safe distance away from his burning candle, drifting over to the other flowers to see if any notes were hidden beneath their flowery abundance.

There were none to be found.

He found himself slightly disappointed that no one else had thought to leave him a letter or note of any kind. But then his heart rose at the realisation that while no more notes were left, thirty or so bouquets had.

The public adored Hux’s voice – there were no doubts about it.

Smiling yet again, such a foreign shape for his face to assume, he cupped his hand around the melting candle on his bedside table, blew it out and settled into bed.

He took a deep breath, and then another in a futile attempt to slow his pounding heart so that he might slip into sleep. However, the cheering of the crowd would not quiet in his head and the tiny letters etched on the note he’d received would not leave his heart.

Though, soon enough, Hux drifted off to sleep.

It was the most peaceful sleep he’d had in a long, long time.

Hux was surprised but also pleased by the newfound respect he found he had gained during rehearsal. Not only did the other performers give him their full attention when he sang, but Monsieur Erso smiled at him– genuinely – as he sang. Even Krennic, the man with perpetual frown lines, gave him a pat on the back after rehearsal had finished.

No one mentioned Poe’s absence or anything about him at all.

It was as if Poe had never been the star. As if the role had always been Hux’s and, from this day forward, would always be his. Hux could still hardly believe his good fortune, even if it was of his own making.

Following rehearsal, the rest of the day went by in such a blur, that it barely felt like any time at all before his next performance. Despite the lurching of his stomach, he forced himself to go to his favourite dining hall and eat some dinner. He’d only get dizzier if he sang in front of a full crowd on an empty stomach.

It came as no surprise when Phasma entered the dinging hall and made her way over to him, sitting across with him without invitation. He wondered how many places she’d had to search before she’d found him, or if she’d simply known he would be there. He’d seen more of Phasma in the past few days than he had during the whole year. Perhaps she thought a close association with the opera’s star would elevate her position. The countless others who had approached him to congratulate him about his performance, and to offer him a compliment or a smoke, either during or outside of rehearsal, were certainly were of that mind.

Although the thought caused something unpleasant to twist inside Hux, he found he did not mind entertaining Phasma, as he had with the others who had tried to make his acquaintance. She truly seemed to naturally like spending time with him despite her ambitions, unlike the others, who seemed like they were expending a considerable effort to maintain Hux’s attention.

“Excited to perform tonight? Nervous?” Phasma asked, after the waiter had taken her order. Hux already had his food brought over.

Hux knew never to admit to a weakness. “I’m excited. There is nothing more thrilling than having your voice heard by so many people.”

“You have amassed quite a number of admirers,” Phasma said. “The whole opera has been talking about you.”

“Oh? What have they been saying?” Hux said, leaning forward.

“Many are curious how a voice such as yours could remain hidden for so long. Others want to know who trained you. You know, that sort of thing.”

Hux smirked. He’d happily give a large sum of his earnings to anyone who could withstand Hux’s tutor’s criticism. And gruelling routine. Snoke was the only music tutor in Hux’s neighbourhood that Hux’s mother could find who was willing to keep Hux’s lessons a secret from his father. It was his criticisms that pushed Hux to try and improve his voice as much as he could. Well, that and a desire to prove his father wrong. He was lucky his mother had quite the singing voice herself and wished to bring Hux to his true potential, otherwise Hux may have never been trained at all.

“Of course,” Phasma said carefully, bringing Hux back to the present. “There are some that talked about you not so kindly.”

“Monsieur Finn is one such a person I’m sure,” Hux replied darkly. “He has already accused me of leaking the information about Poe’s mother to the public.”

“Oh yes, everyone in the opera house heard about that altercation.”

Hux knife and fork slipped from his grasp. They hit the table with a sharp clang but no one paid the noise any mind, it was hardly out of place among the clamour of the dining hall. He picked them up with haste but made no move to eat.

His mouth felt too dry. “Does everyone blame me?”

“Well not everyone, but yes there are some that believe you had something to do with the whole incident. They want Monsieur Dameron to take his place as the star, regardless of the scandal about his family.”

Hux’s jaw clenched. “Well they will be sorely disappointed then. Not even god himself could take this role from me.”

Phasma gave him a sly look that Hux didn’t like, as if she knew something she shouldn’t. “I very much doubt he could. But why worry, you have so many fans.”

“Quite so,” Hux agreed, throat tight. The pleasant sensation of weightlessness that had infused him since his performance had all but vanished, leaving behind it a taste of bitterness on his tongue. He ached to feel so buoyant again but knew the feeling would not return so easily.

“In fact,” he found himself saying. “I have already received a letter of admiration.”

Phasma smiled. “Why Hux, you have earned yourself a dedicated fan already. You certainly are going to go far. What did the letter say?”

For some unidentifiable reason, Hux felt his cheeks pinken. It wasn’t a love note for god’s sake. He shouldn’t feel so protective over it. It was just a surprisingly heartfelt letter.

Signed by a ghost.

He wouldn’t mention that bit.

It ruined the wonder of it all.

The waiter interrupted them, bringing Phasma’s dish. She’d ordered some kind of fish that Hux wrinkled his nose at. She took a few bites before speaking again. Hux decided to leave the rest of his meal, not wanting to push his luck on how much his stomach could handle at that present time.

“Well?” Phasma asked again. “Aren’t you going to tell me what this letter said?”

“It complimented me on my singing, that’s all.”

“That’s perfectly boring,” Phasma told him.

Hux didn’t know how to explain to her that it wasn’t the message itself that had affected Hux so, it was the conviction of it.

My heart raced with every note that fell from your lips.

Hux couldn’t forget the words even if he tried.

“What would you want it to say then?” Hux sneered.

Phasma shrugged. “I don’t know, something a little more dramatic than that. If I had fans, I’d want them throwing away all of their dignity to please me.”

She’d be charmed by my phantom then, Hux thought.

“I’m sure those sort of fans will come,” Hux said instead. “And then I’ll pray they hadn’t.”

Phasma laughed. “If you perform as you did last night, they certainly will,” Hux felt a bit of his unease fade away at her casual confidence in him. Phasma, despite her bluntness and ambition, truly did admire his voice. As much as he hated to admit to it, in the case that Phasma betrayed him, Phasma was his ally.

An uninformed ally but an ally nonetheless.

What he would give to let his secrets rush forth from him without fear that they would be armed against him.

But it was as much of a dream as wishing his mother would rise from her grave.

“I can assure you, I will perform at my very best,” Hux promised.

And perform at his best that night he did. After his performance, he had double the amount of people from the night before present him with an array of compliments and flowers. Maz relived him of the flowers, taking them, he assumed, to his room. After humouring his many well wishes and indulging in a glass of brandy with the other performers, he was delighted to find his room filled with bouquets. There were so many flowers that Maz barey found room for all them. She put them everywhere: on tables, chairs, the floor, his desk. The only clear space seemed to be his bed.

They will tire of you soon enough.

The words of his father rang through his mind, but Hux ignored the criticism; there was very little that could stifle his happiness right now. He picked up a particularly pretty bouquet of bluebells, wanting a different flower to adorn his bedside table that night. He made his way over to his bedside table, flowers in hand, and then froze. There on his bed was another red rose tied with a black ribbon. Beside it lay another letter. Hux all but threw the bluebells on his bedside table, and rushed over to the letter, heart racing, picking up the letter at once. He gripped it tightly in his hands.

His mysterious admirer had written to him again. Had they written to pay him more compliments? Perhaps they would reveal their identity.

Or…

Hux’s grip on the letter eased.

Or… was this letter simply a confession that the first letter was a practical joke? Perhaps Finn had written the letter to rile him.

Before he could dwell for too long on that possibility, he ripped open the letter, not even sparing a thought for his letter opener and let his eyes tear over the page.

 

_Dearest Hux,  
_

_I count myself very fortunate indeed to have heard your voice not once, but twice in a very short while. The Paris Opera House is unworthy of such talent.  
_

_The Phantom of the Opera_

 

Hux’s cheeks to flushed with pleasure. Those were pretty words for someone still hiding behind a façade. Why was his admirer yet again choosing to impersonate a factious phantom? It seemed this person wanted to attract his awareness. But if it that were the case why pretend to be a ghost? Did they believe Hux was receiving many letters and wanted to stand out? If so, they had certainly achieved their goal, regardless of their absurd pysudeom.

If his nameless correspondent was determined to stand out then it was well within Hux’s right to seek out their identity. Letter in hand, he dashed out the door, looking up and down the hallways, hoping the individual he needed had not retired already.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, finding the hallway empty. He wanted this mystery solved and he wanted it solved now. His throat tightened at the prospect that he was unlikely to get the answers he craved that night. Hux was about to give up and return to his room, when he saw the woman in question enter from the north end of the hallway.

“Madame Maz,” he called out, walking up to her, breath uneven.

She turned, a disapproving look on her small, wrinkled face. “What is it, Monsieur Hux. I believe have finished my duties for the night.”

“This letter,” he held it up so it was at eye level with her. He had to lower his hand considerably to do so – she was quite short. “Do you know who gave it to you?”

Maz stared at it, eyes narrowed. “I have never seen it before.”

“It was accompanied by a single red rose, surely you remember delivering that to my room.”

“I only delivered bouquets to your room. No single roses, I can assure you of that.”

Hux glared at her. “Did they pay you not to reveal their identity? Is that what this is?”

“Monsieur Hux, I frankly have no idea what you are going on about, and I would like to retire for the night as soon as I possibly can.”

“You really have no idea who left it for me?”

“No. What more can I say to convince you?”

The irritation flaring in her eyes was indication enough that her words were honest. But then, how had the letter come to be in his room, and on his bed nonetheless? His admirer could be an expert locksmith. The thought sent a chill down Hux’s spine.

“Be on your way,” Hux said.

She nodded, lips still in a stiff line, then made her way down towards the south end of the corridor.

Seeing no reason to stand purposelessly in the hallway, Hux returned to his room. He strode over to his desk and retrieved a new piece of paper from his drawer, sitting upon the chair and pouring all of his frustrations onto the page.

 

_Dear “Opera Ghost”  
_

_I am flattered by your kind words, but I will not tolerate your foolishness. I am not so naïve as to believe you are actually a ghost. If you’re really so enamoured by me, disclose your identity at once, or at the very least sign off your letters anonymously. I make this request of you that I may know to whom I should give my thanks. Lastly, please refrain from breaking into my room. Ghost or not, I do not take kindly to this behaviour.  
_

_Regards,_

_  
_ _Hux_

 

Satisfied with his response, he slid the letter into an envelope, sealed it and left it on his desk. If Hux’s theory was correct and his admirer was breaking into his room, all he’d need to do was leave it there and they’d find it.

His heart hammered at the thought of someone entering his room without his permission. He supposed if they wished to hurt him, they’d had ample opportunity to do so already, and there wasn’t much he could do if that were the person’s intention. For all he knew, they’d found some other way of leaving the letter in his room, although he could not determine what any of those ways could be. Maz was the only person with access to his room. His mind continued to spin with possibilities, to the point that he began to feel dizzy.

Knowing his thoughts were turning nowhere useful and feeling quite exhausted from all the singing and small talk of the night, Hux blew out the candle on his bedside table and settled into bed. Lying in the darkness, his thoughts only seemed to intensify and he tossed and turned for a great deal before he managed to fall asleep. Even then his sleep was a fretful one. This whole letter business had just gotten a whole lot more serious.

All throughout the next day, Hux couldn’t stop thinking about the second letter.

It was incredible how a mere two sentences could occupy his mind so. His memory of them put him in such a buoyant spirit that his initial concerns about his room being broken into merely played at the edges of his mind, not consumed it whole. He was all but expecting another letter after his performance.

Perhaps his admirer would finally unveil their identity at Hux’s request. Or in the very least, humour him with a clue of his identity. Or, most likely he would just pay Hux another compliment or two. Either way, Hux wished the day would progress as quickly as it were able.

The only time that day his mind did not turn to the letter was during rehearsal. He’d assumed his position on the stage and was about to sing the opening song to the performance, a song about love and loss, when Poe walked into the theatre. Everyone, even the maids, stared as he entered the room. Poe lowered his gaze, unable to look any of them in the eye.

Hux felt a sharp sense of satisfaction. This is what becomes of anyone who dares claim what’s his.

“My apologies for being so late,” Poe said to Krennic quietly.

“It is no matter, take your position.”

It seemed the managers had decided that Poe’s voice was too valuable to waste and had still afforded him with a decent role. It was much more than Poe deserved.

After about ten minutes, everyone had seemed to forget about Poe altogether. All but Hux who watched Poe’s discomfort with triumph. He barely said a word to anyone and his shoulders seemed to be set in a permanent slouch.

Unable to help himself, when the performers disbanded for their break, Hux approached Poe, taking care to extinguish any glee from his tone.

“I am so sorry to hear of your mother.”

Poe still couldn’t look him in the eye. “It is what it is.”

“You must be finding this very difficult.”

“You could say that.”

Poe’s lack of response made it very difficult for Hux to tease him any further, and so he let him be.

Following the performance his anticipation of the letter grew excruciating and all of the compliments and flowers he received felt almost ritualistic. He let Maz take them from him without a second glance, dying to return to his room to read the new letter.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. There are so many things that his admirer could say…but also the possibility that they said nothing at all. His stomach twisted when he considered the possibility that no letter had been left, that he had frightened his admirer with his brashness.

But he needn’t have worried.

When Hux returned to his room, he found a letter not on his bed, but just under his door.

Hux smiled.

His admirer had respected his wishes.

However, he felt a pit of unease in his stomach when he realised that the letter was not accompanied by a rose. Before he could dwell on the implications of the rose’s absence for too long, he opened the letter and began reading.

 

_Dear Hux,  
_

_I do not know how to make this more clear. I am the Phantom of the Opera. I swear it upon my mother’s grave I am not trying to deceive you or make you look foolish. Regardless, my identity is of little importance. What is of importance is that you had yet another spectacular performance tonight, and you should know it._

_You request that I do not break into your room, and you wish to know my identity. Though you have captured my attention, there are some things you were not meant to know._

_However, I will abide by your wishes, as pointless as they may be. I will slide this letter under your door._

_While I cannot reveal how I have left these letters behind, I can reveal that I do not work through Madame Maz._

_I work alone, and I always will.  
_

_The Phantom of the Opera_

 

The glow that always filled Hux after reading these letters, infused him and he found himself smiling even more widely. Such a strange phenomenon it always was.

He set to writing a reply instantly, his quill flying over the page.

 

_Dear “Opera Ghost”  
_

_Surely, you were not christened with the name “Phantom.” This mother whose grave you swear on, surely she was not so eccentric? I cannot deny that your claims to be the Opera Ghost appear quite genuine, and perhaps it is you causing mayhem in the opera house._

_You clearly have a dramatic flair, characteristic of such a troublemaker. But I can say with absolute certainty that you are not ghost. Ghosts are for misbehaving children or witless adults. Do you, with the utmost sincerity, claim to be a ghost? Surely, you cannot think I would believe such ludicracy._

_So I implore of you, submit to me your true name by which I may call on you with. If it is your desire to remain hidden which has you adopting this dramatic name, perhaps choose another one which is not so…outlandish. I refuse to address any further letters to a ghost._

_Thank you for paying my wishes heed. It is much appreciated. A man needs his privacy after all.  
_

_Sincerely,  
_

_Hux_

 ...

_Dearest Hux,  
_

_A name holds such power, so mine is not one I can give you…and yet, what you wish for I cannot refuse. If you must so insist that I grant you my true name, how can I possibly deny you? My name is Kylo. You are quite correct that I am no ghost, although I may as well be given that no one knows in reside in the opera house. This isolation is of my own making. I do not wish to be sought out and no one is capable of it, even if it were their deepest wish to find me._

_And yet, again, I find myself leaving my carefully coveted seclusion for you._

_As per your request, your letter has been left at your door, and all future letters will follow this pattern. It is not my wish to vex you, only to know you. For a voice and a face so sweet could only belong to a man of the highest standard._

_So please, Hux, let me know you. Anything; I desire to learn anything and everything about you.  
_

_Yours,  
_

_Kylo_

 

Kylo. Finally, Hux can put a name to these letters. It’s not a traditional name, but neither are the letters; letters which – if Hux isn’t fooling himself – contain the words of a man that would give him the world. After all, he’d signed off the letter with yours. Yours. Like he belonged to Hux and only Hux.

It’s almost like Kylo was courting him.

The realisation caused a warmth to build in Hux, and his fingertips paused over the words as if to cement them on the page. But then a darker thought entered his head.

If he was truly being courted, this could destroy his career. It would be worse than having a history of physiological problems in his family, worse than being discovered sabotaging Poe for his own gain. If it were discovered that he favoured men, his career would be ruined. Worse than that he could be thrown in jail, even executed.

Were these letters really worth the risk?

Hux darted over to the fireplace, hovering the letter over the fire.

I can’t take the risk. It’s too high a cost.

He repeated the words over and over, in his head and aloud, but he couldn’t bring himself to drop the letter to its doom. He pulled the letter back, holding it close to his chest. He cursed it, cursed Kylo, knowing that he was really cursing himself.

He slumped into the chair by his desk letting his face fall into his hands. He would write back to Kylo, he couldn’t stop himself from doing so, but he would not encourage any romantic advances. It stops here. Any more was too risky.

He lifted his head, took up his quill and began to reply to the letter.

 

_Dear Kylo,  
_

_That is quite a name, though I do not believe it was given to you. Surely you are not suggesting that there is not one soul in the entire opera house that knows you?. Your flare for the dramatic is, once again, astounding. I’m sure there is at least one person who knows you, aside from myself. Perhaps I will ask about you._

_I must confess that I am not a very interesting man. I received singing lessons from a very young age, I live here at the opera house, and I could not possibly see myself doing anything else with my life. I hate small talk, particularly with the occupants of this opera, and I like reading books about military history on occasion._

Hux hesitated to write the last line but forced himself to anyway.

_I, too, would like to know you. Your letters are—_

—are …what are they? Beautiful? Elegant? They make him feel like nothing else ever has. It’s terrifying, but it’s also –

_—captivating. I must admit, I find myself distracted by your words. I look forward to every letter, even if I haven’t been fond of your past delivery methods. I wish to know you, too. Let this shroud of mystery fall away. Let me know who you are.  
_

_Sincerely,  
_

_Hux_

... 

 

That day at rehearsal, true to his word, Hux asked a number of people if they’d make the acquaintance of Kylo in the past few years.

Not one of them had. It was as if he were conversing with an actual ghost. Hux supposed Kylo had been honest after all. But why was he so isolated?

Hux couldn’t even begin to guess.

...

 

They sent letters back and forth every night for weeks. They talked of everything and anything. Hux told Kylo things that he’d never said to anyone else. It left him so vulnerable, but he knew, deep in his bones, that Kylo would never betray him.

 

... 

One night, a letter was accompanied by a five-page composition.

 

_Dear Hux,  
_

_At present, you are the only person I am in contact with, letter or otherwise. I cannot explain why I isolate myself, only that it is necessary for my survival._

_Please, tell me what you think of the composition I have left for you. Unless of course you despite it, in that case do not mention it at all. It is a recent composition of mine and I am quite proud of it._

_However, the piece I am most proud of is a piece I wrote for my mother a long time ago. When I play it, it almost feels like she’s still here, as if I have preserved a part of her forever on this earth. Simply giving you the sheet music would not do it justice. Perhaps one day I can play it for you._

_I think even more lowly of Poe Dameron than you do. When I first heard him sing, I was concerned that this was the end of the opera house. He cannot sing and it shows how useless the managers are that they think he can. But then I heard your voice and I needn’t have worried about the future of the opera house. You will make it one of the finest in the world._

_Keep an eye out for the managers today. They will be quite irritable for reasons I cannot yet reveal. It will spoil the surprise, you see.  
_

_Yours,  
_

_Kylo_

 

It seemed Kylo wasn’t completely against revealing himself to Hux, and the knowledge thrilled him.

The piece Kylo gifted him was titled ‘The Point of No Return.’ Hux hummed the notes as his index finger followed each line. The contrast of harmonies and use of modes was incredible. None of the arias Hux has ever sung were as emotional as this. The song was sensual; it was mysterious, and there were few songs Hux could compare its effect on him to. As he sang, he couldn’t get the thought of Kylo out of his head.

“Past the point of no return, no use resisting”

His heartbeat quickened as he imagined Kylo’s hands all over his body, whispering the words into his ear. Hux couldn’t see Kylo’s face, but he could feel Kylo’s touch and hear the deep timbre of his voice.

He wondered if Kylo had written the composition with Hux in mind, and a smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps this was Kylo’s way of suggesting something between them without the risk of incriminating them both. He’d been leaving too many signs for it to be a coincidence.

Hux knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He pushed aside thoughts of execution and imprisonment, the desire burning in them causing them to wilt in comparison, and sat at his desk once more. He took up his quill and began writing, his handwriting uncharacteristically untidy due to his haste.

 

_Dear Kylo,  
_

_If the Point of No Return is truly your composition, I must hear more of your compositions. It is a crime to deny me of them. I wish to hear them at once._

_No, more important than the compositions, I wish to see you. May I finally meet you face-to-face? Though exchanging these letters with you brings me joy, seeing your face, hearing your voice would mean the world to me.  
_

_Yours,  
_

_Hux_

... 

 

Hux spent the rest of the night and the majority of the following day fretting. Had he’d made the right decision? What he’d done was impulsive – Hux was never impulsive – and although he wanted very badly to meet Kylo, he feared that Kylo would outright reject him, or that he would cease writing to him at all.

He also feared that the Kylo of real life would be nothing like the Kylo of his letters.

The only thing that distracted him from his worrying that day was news that the managers had found their office in complete disarray. It proved difficult not to laugh at their fury, but as an actor as well as a singer, Hux kept his amusement to himself.

The day seemed to drag even more so after the incident. It felt like days had passed before he finally returned to his room that night.

 

_Dear Hux,  
_

_As you wish. Make yourself present in your room after the performance and I will be waiting there.  
_

_Yours,  
_

_Kylo_

 

He was actually coming? Hux could hardly believe it, though he’d asked for this meeting more times than he could count. His heart raced at the mere thought of finally meeting Kylo. The night’s performance came and went quicker than before. He did as well as expected, but that was the least of his worries.

Hux returned to his room to find it empty. Guessing that he still had a bit of time before Kylo was due to arrive, he traded his black coat for a green one of his; one he’d been told complimented his eyes. It did little to calm his racing heart but it did make him feel a bit more presentable as he looked on himself in the big gilded mirror.

He was fixing his hair when the mirror started to shake. He stepped back, brow furrowed, unsure of the mirror’s stability. Then to his shock, the mirror swung back, like a door, to reveal a man holding a golden, lit candelabra.

Kylo.

He was tall, with dark haired and a handsome face despite the mask that obscured it.

“Hux,” he said, his voice deeper than Hux had imagined but all the more alluring. He offered a hand to Hux and Hux took it.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Hux said, his voice shaking.

Kylo’s lips quirked up into a smile and he led Hux through the mirror.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find zaera-d's magnificent art for this chapter here: https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/zaera-d/183552302642

The secret passageway Kylo led him through allured him despite its simplicity. Dozens upon dozens of flickering candles bordered the stone walls, encased in golden candelabras, each fashioned in a swirling shape. They lit the way ahead just enough that Hux could see in front of him, but not so much as to illuminate what lay at the end of the tunnel.

His heart raced in anticipation, louder than any fear that threatened to consume his thoughts. Curiously, it was not his destination that sent his heart racing, but Kylo. Hux had thought that when he’d finally met Kylo, that the mystery that shrouded him, would fade away, to reveal an ordinary man, devoid of mystery. But, he intrigued Hux more than ever. He was truly like a ghost, silent and enigmatic, as he led Hux through the passageway, his red cloak trailing behind him like an omen.

He still hadn’t let go of Hux’s hand, his grip tight, as if he were afraid Hux would let go. In his other hand, he held a golden candelabra, larger and more extravagant than those lining the walls. The flame cast a warm glow over his face, and Hux found it very difficult to look away from him.

He struggled for something to say, something to describe the intensity and excitement that he felt. Oblivious to his struggle, Kylo walked on.

“Is it much further of a walk?” Hux finally managed to ask, unable to settle on a topic. The path in front of them seemed unchanging as if it would stretch on for eternity.

Kylo raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at his lips. “Were you expecting a horse?”

“We have been walking a fair bit.” Hux’s legs were growing a bit tired, now that he gave them thought.

“I’ll bear that in mind for next time.”

Next time? A thrill shot through Hux at the thought that Kylo intended to see him again, outside of their current venture. It mattered very little that Kylo’s response had been facetious.

“We’re not far now,” Kylo informed him. Hux examined the path ahead, searching for any discrepancies in their surroundings.

He couldn’t find any.

However a couple of moments later, true to his word, the hallway edged out into a large, poorly lit cavern. It seemed they could walk no further, for a couple of metres in, the ground gave way to a vast body of murky, green water. A golden boat, small but ornate, was tethered to an outcropping of rock by the edge of the water. A crevice at the stern of the boat held a number of lit candles. The combined effort of the candles affected the boat with an eerie glow.

Hux wrinkled his nose. “How do you stand the smell?” he couldn’t help but ask, as Kylo led him into the boat.

Kylo looked at him with a frown. “What smell?”

Just how often did Kylo come down here, that he didn’t notice the strong odours permeating the sewers? Hux stared back at him, perplexed, but didn’t argue further.

Kylo set the candelabra down on the outcropping of rock by the edge of the water. He let go of Hux’s hand to untether the boat, and grabbed hold of the thin golden oar lying on the side of the boat. Hux took a seat nearer the front.

His hand tingled, aching for the warmth of Kylo’s, but he kept his hands folded in his lap. Suddenly, they flew to the sides of the boat when it lurched. Kylo began dragging the oar through the water, charging the boat forward.

“Where are we going?” Hux asked. He leant forward, straining to see what lay ahead. He could see very little, save for tiny pinpricks of light in the distance. What could Kylo possibly have to show him this far underground?

Kylo’s gaze was focused on the path ahead. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Hux turned his attention to the water surrounding them, wondering if any creatures lurked beneath the sewer waters. Truly, anything could be down there. Perhaps even creatures, not yet discovered by the world. There were no humans here to disturb this hypothetical creature’s habitat - it was a safe a place as a creature could be.

“What are you expecting to see?” Kylo asked, interrupting his musings.

Hux thought about it for a moment, tilting his head. “I really have no idea. I cannot imagine that there are many things to see in the sewer, so I can only wonder it is you wish to show me…surely you can tell me where we’re going?”

“Well, no one has ever seen what I am about to show you.”

“You’re fond of exaggerating.”

“I swear to you, Hux, not one soul has ventured to where we are currently headed.”

Hux stared at him, brow furrowed. “Then why me?”

Kylo returned his gaze to the water ahead. “You’re different from the others,” he said.

“Different how?”

Kylo bit his lip “It doesn’t matter.” He pointed ahead. “Look, we’re almost there.”

True to Kylo’s word, they had come close enough that it became clear that the tiny pinpricks of light visible in the distance were dozens upon dozens of lit candles, surrounding a large rocky platform.

At first, Hux thought the platform was a music studio. To the left of the platform, was an extravagant wooden organ. They were still too far away for Hux to inspect the organ in close detail, but it looked more ornate than the organ at the city cathedral. There was a desk nearby the organ, it’s surface filled to the brim with columns of sheet music. Nearby, a mannequin wearing an exquisite green cloak. Piles of fabric in an array of colours lay beside it. A dark red piece of fabric, was draped over something large and tall on the other side of the mannequin, and a large wooden crate was set in front of it. Perhaps it was a tool box of sorts, for all of Kylo’s sewing needles.

Hux grinned – this was it. There were all of Kylo’s creations that he’d spoken of in his letters. They were all there, laid out for Hux to see.

But his smile faltered. On the other side of the platform, was a large bed, fitted with a grey blanket, thin and worn with age. A chest of clothes sat at the foot of the bed, and a table with a meagre meal strewn about it wasn’t far away.

“Surely, this isn’t where you live?” Hux asked.

Kylo’s dark eyes flared. “And if it is?”

But a man like him, so elegant and suave, living in a hole like this? “Why? Why would you live down here? It’s so dark and filthy. Surely you have better means of accommodation?” Hux asks. Kylo’s attire, and the extravagance of both the boat and his costumes proved he was not poor.

“I…I _like_ living down here,” Kylo snapped, Hux flinching at his tone. “I don’t have to…associate with other people.”

“Surely you cannot despise company that much?” Hux tried to reason.

“Why does it matter why I live here? Is it not enough to merely appreciate what you see?” Kylo’s voice grew louder with every word.

“It is…charming, yes,” Hux admitted – and it was, the small platform was like a world of its own. “But hardly a place to live.”

He glared at Hux, then turned away from him. “Do you wish to see my abode, or would you prefer I take you back to your room?”

Hux frowned. It was clear that he’d offended Kylo, yet, he didn’t regret his words. There was something more to him, something that he was hiding; An explanation as to why he was so reclusive. Hux would be damned if he wouldn’t find out what it was.

“Forgive me; that was rude of me,” Hux said. Though his words were polite, his tone were anything but apologetic. “Lead the way.”

They had reached the platform, Kylo re-tethered the boat to an outcropping of rock. When he finished, he held out his hand to Hux. Hux took it without hesitation. Despite their disagreement, a thrill shot through him as their hands touched.

Kylo led him out of the boat and onto the platform. “What would you like to see first?” he asked, words just as curt as Hux’s.

Hux hesitated, not knowing where to start. He wanted to see the organ up close, but perhaps it was best to save the most intriguing item for last. Decision made, he pulled Kylo to the mannequin bearing the green cape instead.

The cloak was even more exquisite up close. The dark fabric was covered in lighter swirls. Inside, it was lined by a dark black silk, and its edges were lined with embroidered lace in gold thread. A golden clasp held it together; two halves of a sun.

Hux fingered the material, fascinated. “This is beautiful,” he said.

Kylo didn’t smile – he still looked far too irritated for that – but the corner of his lip turned up involuntarily. “Thank you. It’s my latest creation.”

“Have you made yourself many cloaks like this?”

“It’s not for me. They rarely are.”

“How many of these aren’t for you?”

“Wait a moment,” Kylo said, letting go of his hand. He went and retrieved the crate Hux had noticed before, setting it down before Hux. Piled inside the box, were an impressive number of elegant clothes. Hux began pulling each of them out, marvelling at the cut and style of each. There were cloaks, dresses, suits, jackets, tunics, ties, gloves, even socks. All manner of clothing that could be created, Kylo had managed it, giving each a unique and beautiful style.

“They’re incredible, all of them,” Hux says. He holds a suit jacket up to himself, admiring the embroidery. “You could make a handsome profit out of these.”

“The managers of the opera house do not want my creations, remember.”

“You don’t have to sell your work to them. Anybody would buy these; I can guarantee you.”

“I won’t sell it to anyone else!” Kylo said sharply, again turning away from Hux.

Hux pursed his lips, turning his attention away from the costumes to the large, tall object next to the mannequin covered by the red fabric. Wondering if perhaps, another of Kylo’s exquisite creations was hiding behind the fabric, he pulled it down with a quick flourish.

All that stood beneath it was a mirror. Hux stared back at himself in disappointment.

“It’s just a mirror, nothing more.” Kylo took the fabric and threw it back over the mirror before Hux could say a word. He stood there a moment, looking into the mirror, though its surface was covered, then turned away again.

Hux supposed he wanted to prevent the mirror from getting dusty, although there was little dust to be found on the platform - Kylo kept it very well maintained.

Hux made his way over to the organ, Kylo trailing behind him. Without waiting for permission, Hux sat at the organ, letting his fingers glide over the keys.

The organ was magnificent, almost every surface of the wood expertly carved with geometric patterns. He tapped a key, grinning as the sound trilled in the air with ease.

“It’s beautiful, wherever did you find it?” Hux asked.

“It was my mother’s.”

“You said you wrote a song for her, long ago. May I hear it?” Hux asked.

“Of course.”

Kylo took a seat beside him on the piano. There was very little room on the small seat, so Kylo ended up pressed against him. Hux’s breath hitched. He took his hands back from the keys and watched as Kylo set his upon them. At first it was quiet; gentle notes as Kylo adjusted the knobs. Then, Kylo began to play.

The pipes of the organ shook the room, belting out as it was bid. The low bass resonated in Hux’s core. Every worry and doubt slipped away as the music swept through his body. Every note mourned and cried. The music came alive, breathing, crying. Kylo too, seemed lost in the music, his eyes closed as his fingers swept over the keys. His fingers danced, drawing a masterpiece with gentle touches. Then, when it finally came to an end, Kylo played the last chord like a sigh; a wish for it to never end, even though it must.

“That was…extraordinary,” Hux told him. He couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.

Kylo smiled; relaxed after having played. “I am pleased you like it.”

“Play something more,” Hux insisted. “I must hear more of your music.”

“Only if you sing as I play.” Kylo adjusted the organ again, but didn’t reach for any sheet music.

“Sing? But how will I know the words?” Hux asked.

“You’ll know them,” Kylo promised. Then, he began to play again.

Hux’s spirits rose; he knew this song. It was _The Point of No Return_. Of course he knew the words. He’d sung the song to himself a million of times since Kylo gave him the sheet music.

_“You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge…Past the point of no return, no backward glances.”_

As Kylo began to sing, a thrill shot through Hux, quick as lightening. His voice was incredible. Better than Poe’s, better than Lando Calrissian’s, better even…than his own. How could he let such talent rot down here in the sewers? His voice was entrancing, as if he were a siren, luring Hux to his death. And Hux would happily go to his death at this point, if he continued to hear this voice.

Hux was so entranced, he nearly forgot that the song was a duet, but when the time came, the lyrics flowed from his mouth as if they were part of him. He let the words imbue him.

_“You have brought me to that moment where words run dry…Past the point of no return, no turning back now.”_

When the third and final verse came, Kylo joined him. Their voices melted together, two singing as one. Hux couldn’t stop staring, and to his surprise, Kylo couldn’t stop staring back. When Kylo sung the words, it felt as if they were meant for Hux, as if he had written them solely for Hux.

_“The bridge is crossed, so watch it burn. We’ve passed the point of no return.”_

In this moment, I didn’t matter that this was their first time meeting face to face, or that they’d fought, or anything. In that moment, Hux knew Kylo intimately, and nothing could tear them away from this moment.

As the song trailed to an end, Hux realised how close he and Kylo had moved together. Their faces were mere inches apart. It would take only the slightest tilt of his head, for their lips to brush.

But he couldn’t. He mustn’t. Desperate to distract himself but unwilling to move, Hux whispered. “Your voice is…incredible. The managers, the patrons, the people would love you.”

Kylo frowned. He moved back, looking down. “No one would pay to see me perform.”

“That’s ludicrous,” Hux insisted. He wished he wouldn’t be so modest - surely Kylo was aware of his own skill. “You could sing anywhere you wanted.”

Kylo laughed; a sound so cold and bitter.

“Don’t you want to sing on stage?” Hux asked.

“Of course, I do,” Kylo growled, irritation flashing in his eyes again. “I just… can’t.”

“Why not,” Hux asked, frustrated. “Have you a fear of crowds? Or are you really so oblivious to the beauty of your own voice.”

“I know I can sing,” Kylo shot back. “I was taught by the finest in the country. I’ve had more time to hone my skills than anyone else.”

“Is it the crowds then? Do they intimidate you?”

“I don’t care what people think about me,” Kylo snarled.

“Then what is it?” Hux’s voice rose in his exasperation and he threw his hands up in the air. “Stop playing games with me.”

“Leave it be,” Kylo hissed, getting to his feet and walking a few paces away from Hux.

Hux would not. He stood as well. “Whatever it is, it’s holding you back. If it were gone, would you sing then?”

“Yes! Yes of course I would.” Kylo was shouting, then. “But in life we rarely get what we want.“

“Whatever it is. I’m sure it can be overcome.”

Kylo turned away from him, trailing his hand down his face. “There are some things can’t be changed.”

Suddenly, several things clicked into place for Hux. Kylo’s self-inflicted isolation. The covered mirrors. The mask he wore.

He reached out for Kylo, pulling gently on his arm. Kylo turned back to face him, but wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Why do you wear that mask?” Hux asked. Almost instinctively, Kylo covered the mask with one of his hands.

“It doesn’t matter.” Kylo looked down, seeming almost tired. “Would you like to see anything else?”

“Kylo,” Hux insisted.

Kylo gritted his teeth, letting his hand fall from his face. “Let it go.”

“You don’t have to hide your face from me. I’m not going to react the way you think.”

“Yes you will, I can guarantee it.”

“Ever since you left me that first letter, I’ve dreamed of seeing your face, and now you deny it of me? Let me suffer no longer. Let me prove you wrong.

“Hux…”

“Please,” Hux asked, raising his hand ever slightly. Kylo flinched but otherwise did not move from where he stood.

Heart racing, Hux rested his hand against Kylo’s mask. He let his fingers curl around the edge of the mask, giving Kylo the chance to pull away if he wanted. He didn’t.

“Trust me,” he said softly, looking him intently in the eyes.

Then he pulled the mask away.

Hux took in a sharp intake of breath.

The skin on the left side of Kylo’s face was utterly disfigured, so burned and misshapen that it barely resembled a face at all.

He had been expecting a single gash across his face, or perhaps an unfavourable blemish, not this. Nothing like this.

He took a step back.

“I…”

“My face, it’s revolting, isn’t it?” Kylo said bitterly, daring Hux to refute him.

“It’s not revolting, it’s…” Hux struggled for words, not knowing how to explain himself  
He couldn’t deny he was shocked by Kylo’s face, but that didn’t mean he was disgusted by it. As deformed as it was, it was still Kylo’s face, and Hux was glad to finally know it.

“Don’t try and pretend.” Kylo shook his head vehemently. “I’ve seen my own face. I know how revolting it is.”

“Your face is really not so terrible as you assume it is.”

“Stop trying to spare my feelings.” Kylo’s eyes darkened. “I saw the look on your face when you took of the mask.”

“I…” He hated explaining himself - it never came out right. “I was shocked, that’s all.”

“Yes, I’m sure you were,” the words were said with such disgust. “You don’t need to pretend, Hux.”

“Pretend? What are you talking about? Yes, I admit that I was shocked but…”

“I thought you might be different but you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Just like the rest…” Hux’s nostrils flared. “How dare you!”

He was nothing like those half-wits in the opera house.

“Just GO,” Kylo yelled. “I never should have brought you down here.”

“How did you expect me to react? Did you expect me not to be shocked?”

“GET OUT.” Kylo was shaking now. “NOW.”

“FINE,” Hux yelled back.

He took the boat, pushing it through the water with the oar as quickly as he could. He pushed the oar with such force that his arms begun to hurt.

How could this have happened? Everything was going so well, and then…and then Kylo’s mask came off. He revealed his true self, and Hux practically threw him away.

When he’d made some traction across the water, he finally looked back to see Kylo on his knees, his head in his hands. The sight tore Hux apart but still he rowed on, unsure what to think, how to feel, only going off the instinct to leave and never return.

 

...

 

When Hux returned to his room, he sunk onto his bed. He sat, pulling at his hair.

How had it all gone so wrong? If only Kylo had _listened_ to him and not been such a presumptuous ass. Being shocked by Kylo’s face was nothing close to being disgusted by it, as he knew the patrons of the opera would be.

Had he been expecting Hux not to react at all? Surely, Kylo could see how ridiculous that was. Hux had thought Kylo would be relieved that Hux wasn’t perturbed by his face. Perhaps Kylo couldn’t bear to admit that he’d been wrong in this circumstance. Surely Kylo wasn’t that proud.

Unless….

Hux’s hands froze in his hair.

What if Kylo had misinterpreted what Hux had said?

What if when Hux had told Kylo that he was shocked by his face, Kylo had taken that to mean he was disgusted by it?

Hux’s throat tightened. He knew Kylo experienced great difficulties with expressing his emotions, but surely he knew that Hux cared for him. He had to!

But what if he didn’t? What if Kylo thought Hux was faking his care?

Then, Kylo was likely under the impression that Hux never wanted to see him again. It explained why Kylo had sent him away in the first place. Well he wouldn’t get rid of Hux that easily.

Hux resolved to go to the sewers the following night and explain himself. Surely, Kylo would have calmed down by then, and they could put all misunderstandings behind him.

Hux relaxed considerably. No harm had been done. In fact, Hux was glad he’d taken Kylo’s mask off. It meant Kylo no longer had to hide from him. They could be open in ways they had never been before.

All Hux had to do was explain himself.

 

 ...

  
But when he tried to open the mirror that night, the door wouldn’t budge.

It was bolted shut.


	4. Chapter 4

When Hux woke up the next morning it was to a throbbing headache and a sense of loss so keen that it rendered the headache almost irrelevant.

Kylo had shut him out, literally and figuratively, and Hux wasn’t sure if he’d ever be let in again.

He should’ve never taken off the mask.

What if Kylo never came back?

What if Hux spent the rest of his life wondering if their conversation could have gone differently?

And it was all over something so incredibly stupid.

Why had Kylo jumped to conclusions so quickly? If he hadn’t everything would’ve been completely and utterly fine. Hux’s visit could have been a new step in their…well whatever it was they had.

Hux’s heart ached at the thought of never seeing Kylo again. Of pretending every letter had been a surreal and colourful dream.

Surely, this had to be temporary. Perhaps Kylo needed space.

A sharp sting of irritation immediately followed. Why did he care so much?

Hux didn’t need him. Hux had been doing fine, better than fine, before Kylo had made an appearance, and he would continue to do so in his absence. He was the star for fuck’s sake; he didn’t need anyone.

He wasn’t going to succumb to an emotional display all because Kylo had decided that their long-month correspondence meant nothing to him.

If space is what Kylo wanted, by all means, Hux was going to let him have it.

Hux got out of bed and walked over to the mirror. He took a deep breath, forcing his himself to smile. He would go to rehearsal and give no thought to Kylo whatsoever. Kylo had lost all rights to his regard.

 

 ...

 

He arrived at rehearsal to find everyone huddled in a large circle, their chatter so loud that it worsened the throbbing in his head. Whatever could they be so excited about? Had someone famous come to stay at the opera house? He approached the crowd, not knowing what to expect.

The people on the fringes of the crowd stopped talking immediately when they saw him, many of them turning to stare openly at him. His stomach twisted.

Had they found out about his letters? About Kylo?

He quickened his pace, staring them all down, daring them to say something. Most of them averted their gaze, but a small number continued to stare at him. One woman in particular raised her eyebrows at him, as if in challenge.

He never should have written to Kylo. This was all going to end in disaster.

Just as he was about to reach the fringe of the crowd, it parted, and there at the centre of all was Poe. His jaw clenched so tightly it was in danger of snapping.

“What’s going on?” Hux demanded. The chatter died and all eyes turned to Hux.

Poe’s smile faded. “They uh… they didn’t tell you?”

He took another step closer to Poe, his hands clenched into fists. If Poe didn’t explain what was going on in the next ten seconds, Hux was going to strangle him.

“Tell me _what_?”

“Well…”

“Poe is taking his role back,” said someone behind him.

His role. _His_ role, as if it had never belonged to Hux!

Blood rushed through Hux’s ears. People had begun to whisper but he could barely hear them. All of his hard work had been whisked away, like a toy from a small child. All of it, it had been for nothing. Hux in turn had amounted to nothing.

 _You were never meant to be the star_ , his father sneered in his head. _I warned you that your failure was eminent._

For once, he couldn’t argue with his father. He turned to see who had delivered the awful news, and felt a wave of nausea wash over him as he did so.

He should’ve known it would be Finn.

“What of the scandal?” Hux asked, trying his best to keep his voice level. Being a performer, he managed quite successfully.

“I am to be his patron. The opera managers couldn’t refuse my offer.” A smug smile spread across Finn’s face.

Hux took in a harsh breath, his fingers digging into his palms painfully. Finn was rich; distant royalty of a tiny insignificant country in Europe whose name Hux couldn’t recall. Yet, his distant ties to this tiny kingdom weighed more than the thousands of hours of practice Hux had put in over the years.

Talent could never outweigh gold. Hux couldn’t win this fight. He had no wealthy benefactor to fight for his position. It was all over.

“I suppose I am to be Poe’s understudy once more?” Hux asked, bitterly.

Finn shrugged. “I have no clue.”

“I’d best go see the managers then.” Hux took in a deep breath, his fists shaking in an effort to keep them by his sides. He would not make a scene. He was more distinguished than that.

Hux made for the exit, knowing all eyes were on him in that moment. They could stare all they liked. If they thought he was going to lose his composure, they were fools.

He’d lost the battle but he would never lose the war.

 

 ...

 

He knocked three times at his managers’ door, his knuckles tingling with pain at the force of each knock. Erso appeared at the door almost instantly, as if he’d been hovering by it.

“Ah Monsiour Hux we were just about to send for you.” Erso smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He hastened into their office, brushing past Erso. Krennic was sitting at his desk, but he stood up when he saw Hux, a tiny smile on his wrinkled face.

Hux crossed his arms, eyes darting between the both of them. “Am I to be Poe’s understudy?”

Erso scratched his head. “Well yes. I’m terribly sorry Hux. You see, a very wealthy man has become Poe’s patron, and the money he offered us…well to reject such an amount would be utterly absurd.”

Krennic cut in. “Even if you found yourself a patron, I doubt they would be able to compete with Poe’s patron’s…generosity. We had no choice but to relegate you to understudy.”

“I understand,” Hux told them, teeth gritted. “Business is business after all.”

Erso sighed. “Precisely that. I’m so pleased that you understand.”

He wanted to scream at them that no, he didn’t understand. This wasn’t fair. They couldn’t give him the world then snatch it away for money. More than that he wanted to pull back his fists and punch them until their faces were so bloody they were unrecognisable. But his fists stayed clenched at his sides, and he took in a deep breath.

He still couldn’t help but say, “Who cares for art when money is involved.”

“Now, now,” Krennic said smoothly. “Monsieur Dameron is a fine singer. There is very little we lose in this situation.”

Hux couldn’t keep the words back now, shaking as he was with rage. “Is my singing worth _nothing_ to you?”

“You are an excellent singer as well,” Erso said hastily. “And you will make an excellent understudy.”

“If Monsieur Dameron falls ill, you will take his place. In the meantime, you can assume Poe’s former role in the production.” Krennic sat back down at his desk, turning his attention away from Hux, and effectively ending the conversation.

“I suppose I have no choice,” Hux muttered.

It was all over. He couldn’t sabotage Poe again - everyone would know it was him in a heartbeat. There was literally nothing he could do. He had no plan. For the first time in his life he felt like giving up.

 

 ...

 

Over the next few days he had to endure everyone, aside from Phasma, ignoring him once more. Worse yet, he had to hear Poe sing all of _his_ songs, act out _his_ lines. It was as if he’d never been the star, as if the past few months had been a dream.

He spent most days, as if in a fog, having barely enough energy to get out of bed, let alone read his lines. Every night he tried to open the mirror door, only to find it locked every time.

The first night he tried, he’d been sure it would open. Kylo had to forgive him. Something _had_ to go right. But, as with the night before it would not budge. He banged his fist against the door but let it be.

On the second night when the door didn’t open, Hux banged against the door thrice, yelling out. “This is getting ridiculous.”

On the third night, when the door didn’t open, he didn’t knock, he didn’t yell. He didn’t have the energy for it anymore. He leant his head and palms against the mirror and closed his eyes.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please come back.”

But the door stayed locked.

 

 ...

 

When he got to rehearsal the next morning, he was startled to find that everyone was huddled together again, this time in small groups. No one was staring at him this time, which was a good sign. He wondered what the gossip was about this time.

The only person not part of a group was Finn. He stood by the stage with his arms crossed, as if he were waiting for someone. Before Hux could look away, Finn met his eyes. As soon as their eyes met, Finn’s expression darkened.

Hux took a step back, startled when he realised Finn was striding over to him, his eyes glinting almost dangerously. Hux barely had any time to react before Finn’s fist flew into his face. Hux stumbled back, clutching his nose, feeling the blood drip down his lips.

“How _dare_ you...” Hux began, wincing in pain.

“I know you did it, you bastard!” Finn screamed. Hux’s heart thumped uncomfortably at the word bastard. “It was you last time and there’s no doubt it was you this time.”

“Did what?” Hux’s nose was still bleeding - he hoped it wasn’t broken.

“Don’t play coy with me,” Finn said. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I honestly have no clue.”

“I don’t know how you did it, but this is a step too far. I’m going to get you kicked out of this place one way or another. They’ll find out you did it.”

“Did what?” Hux asked again, as Finn stalked off in another direction.

He looked around lost for a moment, so confused by what was happening. Everyone was staring at him, whispering amongst each other. He spotted Phasma and made a beeline for her.

“What in the blazes is going on?” he asked her.

“Poe came here to practice in the morning. When he was on stage, one of the floorboards gave out, and now he’s broken his leg,” she said.

“Poe’s…not the star anymore,” Hux asked, hardly willing to believe it.

“He can hardly be the star with a broken leg.”

“Does that mean…”

Hux’s heart rose in his chest. Had he really been given a second chance?

“Yes, yes you’re going to be the star again.”

Hux fought a smile, feeling more alive than he had in days.

“You know, everyone thinks you did it,” Phasma said. “Even the people who didn’t believe you sabotaged him the first time.”

“I had no idea it had even happened,” Hux spluttered. “How could I have possibly done it?”

“Well Poe received a note that he was to attend a private practice this morning, but the managers have affirmed that they sent no such note. Clearly some sort of sabotage occurred.”

“Phasma, surely you don’t think I did it.” Of everyone, Phasma had to believe he didn’t do it. She was the only one who would.

Phasma stared at him. “I don’t know Hux, you are the only one to gain anything from Poe being hurt.”

“I swear, it wasn’t me!”

“Frankly, I don’t care if it was, or it wasn’t. But other people will. I would tread carefully Hux. You could be arrested at this point. A letter is a harmless bit of fun, but this…Poe was seriously injured.”

Hux’s heart raced into a panic at the thought of going to prison. “Well they have no proof I did it,” he huffed. “Because I didn’t do it.”

“Well, if they don’t have proof there’s not much they can do. Your best chance is that they blame it on the opera ghost.”

Hux threw up his hands. “Well I have no hope then, a ghost wouldn’t be capable of…” he trailed off.

Could he have…Could Kylo…But he was ignoring Hux, he didn’t care about Hux anymore. He wouldn’t go out of his way to….Would he?

“Was any evidence left behind?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

Hux felt disappointed. He had no way of knowing if Kylo really had sabotaged Poe for him. But there was no one else who could have possibly done it.. Phasma was right, no one else had anything to gain from Poe being disposed except for Hux. And Kylo wanted – well he had wanted – Hux to sing. Besides, he had caused accidents before, even if they’d been more harmless than this. It had to be Kylo.

Hux felt an odd kind of lightness build up in himself. For the first time in his life, someone was looking out for him, someone believed in him. He had someone on his side. By god, he was going to get through that door even if he had to force it open with a crowbar. Kylo clearly still cared about him. This nonsense had been going on far too long.

“Well I’d like to thank whoever did do it,” he whispered to her.

Phasma smirked at him. “If it’s true that you didn’t do it, you’ve had more luck in a month than I’ve had in my whole life. How’d you manage that?”

“Well…I guess I just have a guardian angel,” Hux said, smiling, just a little.

 

 ...

 

When he returned to his room that night, he tried opening the mirror only to find it still locked. He was just going to have to try something different.

He went to fetch something much more powerful than his fists. He pulled out a piece of parchment and quill, sat at his desk and began writing. He felt a twinge of sadness, remembering how only a week ago, he’d been writing letters to Kylo under very different circumstances.

 

_Dear Kylo,_

 

_Stop this, please. Why do you shutting yourself away from me? Perhaps I was being presumptuous, but I was under the impression that we were—_

Hux paused for a moment, not even sure himself what they were.

_—connecting on some level. Let me see you again._

 

_Hux_

 

He signed off the letter with a satisfied flourish and stuffed it into an envelope. He put it where he normally put his letters to Kylo, in the crook of the door, and hoped to god that Kylo hadn’t stopped looking for them.

 

...

 

When Hux returned from dinner, he gasped. On his bed was a letter nestled under a beautiful pile of fabric. He all but ripped open the letter, wanting to know if it was all over, if everything could go back to the way it was.

 

_Dear Hux,  
_

_  
Forgive me if I have led you to believe that I do not wish to see you. Every night my heart has called out in want of yours but I have shut it down in shame of what you have seen. Forgive me even more so for frightening you. You now know why I always wear a mask. Do not fear; you will never have to see my face again, for I will ensure the mask stays on at all times._

_It brings me great joy to know you still wish to see me, even after being exposed to my face. I will make myself present tonight at eight o’ clock in your room._

_P.S. I have been making this for you for a number of weeks, but I think now is the right time to give it to you, as an apology of sorts. I hope you wear it at the masquerade and think of me._

  
Yours,

_Kylo_

 

Hux stared at the words, an ache building in his chest. He’d assumed that Kylo had misunderstood Hux’s reaction to his face, and had thought perhaps he’d been angry that Hux had reacted as he had. He hadn’t realised that Kylo thought Hux never wanted to see him again because Hux couldn’t bear to set his eyes on him. Thank god Hux had written him a letter.

His eyes then moved to the fabric the letter had been sitting on. He put the letter aside and the lifted the fabric up. His chest tightened even more so.

The costume was magnificent. The tunic, the pants, the cape – it was all golden like the sun. The feathers of the cape were incredibly soft and to his shock, slightly shiny, as if they were plucked the tail of a mythical bird. It was an outfit worthy of a king and Hux could hardly believe it was made for him.

He’d forgotten about the masquerade completely. It was in a couple of days. There had been so much going on, he’d completely forgotten to even purchase a costume. But now it looked like he didn’t have to worry about getting one. It looked the perfect size and was exactly to Hux’s tastes.

If only it’d come with a…

He looked where he’d picked up the fabric and realised that it had indeed come with a mask. He put down the costume and picked the mask up, marvelling at all its details.

Like the costume the mask was accompanied by, it was golden. The design was exquisite, the solid part of the mask adorned with tiny golden spirals. Feathers jutted up and outwards from the top of the mask like a golden crown.

No one had ever made anything before, put so much care into something for him. Tears welled in his eyes; it was an alarming feeling. He tried to stave them off by putting the mask down and pacing around the room.

It wasn’t such a big deal. Kylo made costumes all the time. Just because he made one for Hux didn’t make it special.

But it was special. And Hux didn’t know how to thank him.

 

 ...

 

He spent the rest of the night, alternating between being irritated that Kylo had misunderstood him, being thankful for the costume, and wondering what he was possibly going to say to him when he showed up again. Regardless of what he tried to distract himself with, be it reading or practicing singing, his eyes kept darting back to the costume and the mask.

When 8pm finally arrived, he felt incredibly nervous for a reason he could not discern. He sat on his bed, tapping his shoes against the wooden floor, hoping that Kylo would arrive so he wouldn’t have to think so much.

Then he heard the mirror creak open and his head whipped around. Kylo stepped out from behind the hidden door. For once, he looked uncertain. He smiled when he saw Hux, but it was small and scared. He offered his hand again, and Hux took it at once, following him through the mirror.

“Well, it’s about time,” Hux said, when they were on their way down the corridor, Kylo’s candelabra lighting the way once again.

Kylo frowned. “I truly believed you did not wish to see me again.”

Hux stopped walking and turned to face Kylo. Kylo couldn’t quite look at him in the eye. “How could I not? After every letter, every song… Do you really think I would run from you because of your face?”

Kylo bit his bottom lip, still unable to look at Hux. “I didn’t…but you did.”

Hux crossed his arms. “Well that’s…you were yelling at me, screaming for me to go.”

“Because you were disgusted by my face.”

“Your face is not disgusting Kylo.”

Kylo shook his head. “Don’t lie to me, I know what I am.”

“A _person_. That’s what you are,” Hux said. He reached out for Kylo’s face, but Kylo turned away from him. “Yes, your looks are…unconventional, but it’s a part of who you are. I…I like who you are.”

“I’d be content with you just being able to tolerate my face, I don’t need you pretending to…to like it,” Kylo growled.

Hux frowned. “I am not pretending. But fine, at least understand, that I have no issue with your face.”

“…Truly?” Kylo whispered.

“Truly.”

They continued to walk down the corridor, Kylo seeming deep in his own thoughts. They didn’t say anything more until they got to the boat. They both climbed in and Kylo took the oar, rowing them forward.

“Thank you…for the costume and the mask,” Hux told him. “They’re exquisite.”

Kylo seemed more himself when he smiled at Hux. “I’m glad you like them, you…inspire me.” Hux’s cheeks flushed. “Think of me when you wear it to the masquerade.”

“You’re not going?” Hux asked.

“When have I ever intermingled with the public?”

“But it’s a masked ball, no one would know it is you. From what you say, I doubt anyone knows who you are at all.”

When they’d reached the landing platform, Kylo put aside the oar and helped Hux out of the boat. The landing was just as beautiful as Hux had remembered it.

When Kylo next spoke, Hux barely heard it. “Would you like me to come?”

Hux put his hand on Kylo’s shoulder. This time, Kylo didn’t move away. “Of course. How am I to get it through your thick skull that I adore spending time with you.”

Kylo looked down. “It’s impossible.”

“Why?” Hux asked, frustrated. “Why is it impossible.”

“What if someone removed my mask?”

“You know that’s very unlikely to happen.”

“I just…haven’t been around people in so long. I don’t know if I could handle it.”

“You do just fine with me,” Hux insisted.

“I’m sorry Hux, but I just can’t go.”

Hux tried to push down the disappointment. It wasn’t like he needed Kylo to be there. He did just fine on his own all the time. “Alright then,” he said gruffly.

Kylo opened his mouth as if to defend himself some more, but couldn’t find the words. He made for his ornate bed and Hux followed him. The two sat down on it.

Hux tried to change the subject. “I also meant to thank you for taking care of Poe for me. I know it was you.”

“No need to thank me. I merely made things as they are meant to be. You are meant to be the star Hux,” Kylo said almost defiantly.

The genuine nature of his tone made Hux feel light all of a sudden. “You have so much confidence in me,” Hux said, still wondrous about it.

No one had ever had confidence in Hux. His whole life he’d had to believe it, to keep believing it, even when everyone else tried to tear his belief in himself down.

“Everyone should hear your voice, Hux.” Kylo said. “In the whole of Paris, in London, in Egypt; Everyone must get the chance at least once to hear it, as I have.”

Hux stared at him, breath taken away by the sheer honesty in his voice. He realised how close they were sitting, their arms and knees brushing against each other.

“Well I suppose I’ll never stop singing then,” Hux said. He could feel Kylo’s breath against his cheek.

“I will let nothing get in your way, Hux. You will be the star. Consider me your wrathful bodyguard, your watchdog. Everyone will hear your voice.” Kylo leaned closer, inching forward.

Hux didn’t know what to say. “You are incredible,” was all he could muster. “I don’t know what I’ve possibly done to deserve you.”

Almost without realising he was doing it, Hux leaned in, head tilting, lifting a hand to touch Kylo’s face.

But Kylo turned away. “No,” he said.

“You don’t need to wear it around me,” Hux said, Kylo’s vow having removed all the fire from him. “I see you as you are.”

“I’m not taking it off,” Kylo said, still holding his mask against his face.

“I’m not going to run away again, no matter how much you yell at me.”

“Please,” Kylo said.

Hux lowered his hand. “I wish you would trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Kylo insisted, voice raising with every word.

“Then why won’t you take off your mask?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m keeping it on.”

Hux sighed.

Kylo wasn’t going to give in. It didn’t matter if Hux shouted his feelings for him from the tallest mountain range in the world, he still would refuse to remove his mask.

It had nothing to do with Hux and everything to do with how Kylo felt about himself. Pressuring Kylo to take off his mask would only drive him away again, and Hux would rather declare Poe’s voice superior to his own in front of the whole opera, than be forcefully separated from Kylo ever again.

“You don’t have to take the mask off,” Hux said quietly. “It’s okay.”

Kylo shifted on the bed and took Hux’s hands in his. His voice was low, almost as if he were embarrassed. “Thank you. I just…can’t.”

They were silent for a few moments. Hux still unable to grasp the concept that he was holding Kylo’s hands for an extended period of time. He rubbed his thumb against Kylo’s palm. Kylo shivered slightly.

“I can’t believe you’re still here,” Kylo murmured.

“How could I banish my bodyguard?” Hux said slyly.

Kylo smiled at him, squeezing his hands lightly. “Even if you did banish me, I will always be looking out for you. There’s nothing you can do to drive me away.”

Hux smiled back at him, unable to hide it.


	5. Chapter 5

The opera had outdone itself for its annual masquerade. The grand hall looked like a completely foreign location, the walls to the south draped with garlands of flowers, statues glinting with polish, and a small band of musicians playing in the corner. The music they played was loud and merry and seemed to be well received by the hundreds of people crowding around the dance floor, and the thirty or so people twirling together in the centre.

Hux had never seen so many different masks in his life. Each was extravagant and unique utilizing combinations of feathers, sequins, glitter, and colour. It was outlandish, but to have an outlandish mask was to be noticed and to be noticed was a performer’s greatest wish.

Hux had worn the mask and costume Kylo had made for him as he’d promised. He expected the fabric to be constricting and unforgiving, but he felt surprisingly at ease. He was startled by how many people came up to him solely to compliment him on his costume, despite his isolation by the stairs.

Oddly, he felt no desire to mingle with the other partygoers. A strange hitch in his throat demanded he stay exactly where he was.

Hux didn’t know what was wrong with him. He always talked to people at masquerades. In a mask, you could say anything, do anything, and it would have no bearing on your relationship in the future, for your identity was concealed. Instead, he watched everyone pass by in front of him, as if he were simply an observer of the night, not a living counterpart of it.

His head jerked and his heart thudded, when he thought he saw a gathering of black hair or a simple white mask, but none of them proved to be the man he was hoping for. Hux knew Kylo was being honest when he’d said he wasn’t going to attend the masquerade. Yet he couldn’t help but imagine, Kylo striding up to him, a wide smile on his face.

“You thought I wouldn’t come,” he would say, and then Hux would shake his head and tell him that he should’ve known.

But Kylo did not appear. And so, Hux stood alone by the stairs.

“You look like you’re having a wonderful time.” He turned to see Phasma standing there, looking stunning in a floor-length green gown with a silver mask shaped like a half moon.

“You know how much I adore a party,” Hux said.

“You don’t want to dance?” she asked.

Hux’s eyes darted over to the dancers, spinning around in brilliant flashes of colour. He wasn’t opposed to dancing, but the only person he wanted to dance with was no-where in sight.

“Not tonight.”

Phasma pursed her lips, but didn’t push him further. Mercifully, she changed the subject.

“That’s an exquisite mask you have there, and a incredible costume,” Phasma complimented him. “Wherever did you obtain it?”

“A friend made it for me,” Hux said shortly.

Phasma shook her head, smiling ruefully. “I was under the impression that I was your only friend.”

Hux’s stomach twisted. He wanted to tell her about Kylo. About everything that had happened between them the past few weeks but knew he couldn’t give away Kylo’s secret.

“I may have one or two more,” he said.

“Well your friend is very talented,” she told him.

_Yes, yes he is._

“Have you been dancing much?” Hux asked.

Phasma smiled. “Oh yes, I’ve had quite a few ask me on the floor. They all seem quite intimidated by me, though I have no clue why.”

“Who could ever guess,” Hux said, eyes still darting around the room.

“Is something…”

“Can I interrupt,” a voice said and Hux’s heart stopped altogether. He turned and there was Kylo.

His tunic and pants were black, both streaked with gold, a daring crimson cloak trailing behind him. Even more eye-catching than his costume was his mask. The golden mask he wore was detailed with tiny golden spirals, much like Hux’s own. Spires pointed upwards from the mask like an elaborate crown. He looked very much like a vengeful king who had won his place on the throne through treason, or a wrathful god who had just ordered a flood to engulf an entire city.

Hux couldn’t take his eyes off him.

“You came?” Hux said, breathless.

The corner of Kylo’s mouth turned up. “How could I deny you, your wish?”

They both stared at each other for a moment, unsure what to say in this new, public environment. Kylo had come here for Hux, despite being terrified of his face being seen. Kylo, who rarely left his sewer, who never talked to anyone, was here, merely because Hux had asked him to. The strange feeling that bubbled up inside Hux whenever Kylo was near, burned inside him, stronger than ever.

“Hux?” Phasma said, sounding amused. “Would you care to introduce me to your _friend_?”

He turned to Phasma, embarrassed that he’d momentarily forgotten she was there. “Phasma this is Kylo, who gifted me my mask and costume. Kylo this is Phasma.”

Kylo nodded curtly at her.

Phasma nodded back, a wide smile on her face. “What position do you hold in the opera house? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you here before.”

“You wouldn’t have, I’m only visiting at the moment. Hux and I are childhood friends, you see” Kylo told her smoothly, as if he’d been training himself all day to answer this one question.

“How charming,” Phasma said. “You never mentioned having a childhood _friend_.”

A spike of fear ran through him. The way she enunciated the word _friend_ , it was as if she knew, but how could she? She’d only met Kylo a moment ago. They’d barely said two words to each other.

“I’m a private man,” he said.

“That’s an understatement.” Phasma tapped his arm. “Did you go to the same school?”

Before Hux could even think to compose a lie, he noticed a tall man with dark hair standing just outside their circle, mouth trembling as if he wanted to say something but he had been cursed not to.

Hux stared at him pointedly, drawing the attention of his group to the man. It only seemed to make him more nervous, but he didn’t run away. The man finally got the words out, holding out his right hand.

“Madame Phasma, would you care for a dance?” He asked, hands and voice trembling. Phasma appraised him for a moment, seeming almost pleased by his nervous nature and then took his hand.

“Why not,” she said. She turned back to Kylo and Hux. “My apologies, we’ll have to continue this conversation later.”

Hux smiled in a way he hoped wasn’t too eager. “No, go, enjoy yourself.”

She followed the man to the dance-floor, without another word.

“Thank god she didn’t interrogate us for a moment later,” Hux said.

“It seems very in her nature,” Kylo mused.

Hux nodded. “Very little slips past her.”

Then they were quiet again. Despite the fact that so much was going on around them, Hux still couldn’t bring himself to look away from Kylo. He was here and nothing else mattered but that.

“You look very becoming in your costume,” Kylo said, rubbing the back of his neck.

The tips of Hux’s ears reddened. “As do you.”

Kylo looked down at his costume. “I’ve always wanted to wear one of my designs in the public. It is one thing to create, but another for the art to be seen, to be appreciated.”

As exquisite as Kylo’s costume was, Hux knew he wouldn’t be able to stop staring at Kylo regardless of what he was wearing.

“Did you…”

Kylo was cut off by the approach of a girl, head held high with confidence, holding up a dark crimson red mask by a stick. Hux turned to her, gritting his teeth. Could they not have one moment alone?

Hux supposed it was one of his fans. They came up to him on occasion to ask him for singing tips, or sometimes even to giggle at him, before asking something inane, such as how he took his tea.

His mouth fell open when she turned to Kylo, looking at him through her eyelashes coyly. “May I have this dance monsieur…”

“Kylo,” he finished stiffly. “I am not much of a dancer.”

“I am a good teacher,” she said.

The thrill racing through Hux twisted into something dark and ugly. He glared at her, wishing she’d trip over her gaudy and unnecessary gown. It wasn’t that he thought Kylo would take her up on her offer. It was that this woman had to the gall to think that he would. He didn’t know why the fact bothered him so much, only that it did.

Kylo shook his head. “No thank you.”

The easy smile on her face faded and she took a step back, cheeks pink. “Alright then. My apologies.” She turned back into the crowd without another word.

“What was that?” Kylo asked, looking bewildered.

“She clearly thinks you’re handsome,” Hux said bitterly.

“Handsome?” Kylo sneered, mouth twisting. “She wouldn’t if she knew what was underneath. If she did, she’d run.”

Hux’s bitterness gave way to remorse.

He hadn’t meant to make Kylo upset.

“I’m still here,” Hux told him. He raised his hand to touch his face but pulled it back sharply. There were too many people around.

“For now,” Kylo said, looking down.

“I don’t know what else I can do to convince you that your face is not an issue for me. I suppose the only thing that will convince you is time.”

“I suppose so,” Kylo conceded, the words lacking any conviction. Hux wished more than ever that he could pull off the stupid mask and stare at Kylo, stare at him until Kylo realised that Hux was never going to run, that he couldn’t run from Kylo. Not now, not ever.

“I’m pleased you didn’t dance with her,” Hux told him, throat tight.

Kylo raised his head, cheeks slightly pink. “She wasn’t who I wanted to dance with.”

Hux’s heart rose in his chest, a wave of longing crashing over him. He imagined Kylo holding him close as they swept across the dance-floor. The music, the people, the hall, it would all cease to mean anything, lost as Hux would be in Kylo’s arms. He’d give anything to dance with Kylo like that.

“If only we could.” He turned his gaze to the dance-floor, watching as dozens of couples waltzed across it without a care in the world. Worse than that, was seeing, Finn and Poe on the other side of the room, staring longingly at the dance floor, just as Hux’s was. It didn’t matter that Poe’s leg was broken, just knowing that they were barred from joining the dance floor together, was enough to spurn misery in their hearts.

Men like them - they could never be themselves. It didn’t matter if they had a flawless face, or a ludicrous sum of money, or a voice that the world adored. None of them were permitted to love. The mere act of loving was a death sentence.

He despised having anything in common with Poe, but he couldn’t deny that there was some small part of him that Hux did understand, a part of him that Hux could never betray no matter how much there was to gain from it.

Poe couldn’t have Finn, just as Hux couldn’t have Kylo. The way the world treated them was monstrous, and Hux would play no part in that injustice.

He turned back to Kylo, ready to change the topic. He blinked rapidly, trying to banish the tight feeling in his throat, but Kylo spoke up first.

“Hux, I have an idea.” He sounded strangely animated. “Follow me.”

“Kylo, what,” he asked, but Kylo had already made his way for the staircase, his red cape flowing behind him. Hux hurried after him, catching up to him just as they began their climb up the stairs. He noticed a couple of people staring at them as they went, including Finn who gave him a steely glare, but he tried not to think of the repercussions of that.

“Where are we going?” he asked Kylo, when they entered a mostly empty corridor.

He took a deep breath, feeling so much more clearheaded now that there were not so many people around.

“You’ll see,” Kylo said, still walking straight ahead. It was just like the first time Kylo had led him through the mirror to his home, Hux had no idea where they were going, but found himself intrigued, possibly even excited by this change in direction.

He led him up another flight of stairs, and then another.

Hux truly had no idea where they were going - he’d never needed to go to this area of the opera house before.

Then it seemed, they could climb no more stairs or walk no more, for they were face to face with a brick wall, covered with an exquisite tapestry. To his shock, Kylo brushed the tapestry aside, revealing a small opening to the outdoors. Hux shivered a little as he walked through it. It led into what looked like the roof. It was snowing and the night sky was dark above them, stars twinkling high above them.

For an area of little purpose, the roof was a beautiful sight. The short wall that bordered the roof was blanketed in snow and in the far right corner of the balcony, also draped in snow was an exquisite statue of a lion, bearing its head proudly against the dark night sky.

Hux marvelled at it all, wondering how he’d never found this place before. He pulled off his mask, slipping it into his pocket, raising his face up to the snow, liking the sensation of it dripping down his face.

He jumped a little, when he felt Kylo’s hand slide into his and he turned to Kylo, heart thumping. “What if someone sees? We’re not in the sewers.”

“Very few people know about this place. My mother had it deemed as unsafe so that I may come up here sometimes and be by myself. When she died, most people simply forgot it existed.” Kylo took Hux’s other hand, and Hux let him.

Hux still felt nervous but he couldn’t find it in himself to pull away. He was with Kylo, alone, with this strange new energy crackling between them, in this new environment. In this new environment anything could happen.

“It’s so good to get away from all that,” Hux told him.

“We can do whatever we want here,” Kylo said softly. “There’s no one here to stop us.”

Hux licked his lips. “Whatever will we do?”

“Well, I was wondering if you would like to dance with me?”

Hux’s heart stuttered a beat. “There’s no music.”

Kylo began to sing a sweet song.

“But we’re both men. Who will lead?” Hux protested, though already he was swaying along.

Kylo stopped singing. “You can, shh Hux, just go with it. Listen to my voice.”

He continued singing and Hux closed his eyes, listening to his voice, letting his body be guided by it. His head rested on Kylo’s shoulder, arms tucked close while Kylo’s hands drifted down to his waist. It felt right.

When he was lost in the rhythm, he opened his eyes, and saw Kylo looking at him as if he were everything he’d ever wanted, as if the sweet words that flowed from his mouth were meant for Hux, and Hux alone.

When the song came to an end, their dance also did, as if the dance could not exist without Kylo’s beautiful voice guiding it. With no reason to stop himself, Hux raised his hand to Kylo’s face and he cupped it there. Kylo flinched but for once did not pull away.

He held it there until he was sure Kylo wouldn’t pull away. His fingers teased at the edge of the mask.

“Please,” he whispered.

Kylo lowered his head in ascent. “Alright.”

Hux pulled the mask off, and let it fall to the ground. Kylo looked back up at him, his eyes wide, eyes begging him not to scream, not to run, to be different from everyone else.

Hux caressed the disfigured skin, and smiled at Kylo. “Just as it should be.”

Kylo continued to stare at him, as if he were unable to believe it.

Then Hux leaned in and kissed him.

It was just a slight brush of his lips at first, an act of seeking permission. Then Kylo pressed back, his lips soft and warm, his arms encircling Hux. Hux pushed his mouth against Kylo’s more hungrily, letting his tongue slide into Kylo’s mouth, as if it was a gift that he’d been teased with for years. Kylo took Hux’s bottom lip in his mouth and sucked on it, making Hux shiver.

The kiss was soft and wet and perfect, and Hux never wanted it to end. He raked his hands through Kylo’s silky hair, groaning, never wanting to let this, let him go.

As with all the things, the kiss had to end, and the two pulled back shakily, drawing in quick breaths of air.

“That was incredible,” Kylo said, his cheeks pink.

Hux whispered. “You’re incredible”

Kylo smiled wide and carefree, and Hux felt a smile of his own curve up onto his face. Kylo kissed him again, lifting Hux up and spinning him around, his red cape twirling around them like it was shielding them from the world.

Not that they needed shielding.

In that moment, nobody existed, - nobody had ever existed - except for Kylo.

The night was theirs, and theirs alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zaera-d produced 2 incredible pieces of fanart for this chapter.
> 
> You can find them in the links below:
> 
> The masquerade - https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/zaera-d/183552303497
> 
> The kiss - https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/zaera-d/183552303497


	6. Chapter 6

Hux woke up the next morning with a smile on his face.

Memories of he and Kylo dancing close, of the song Kylo sang, of the two of them kissing swept through his mind and his heart ached to have him close. He’d never felt anything like this before, a need to be by anyone’s side, a compulsion to hold him and never let go.

Hux’s throat tightened at the thought of Kylo disappearing again.

_It’s disgusting how dependent you are._

He flinched. He hadn’t heard Brendol’s voice in his head for a long time.

He tried to distract himself by getting up and performing his morning routine, thinking about what he was going to do that day. His options were boundless as he and everyone else in the opera house had the day off. For many, the day would be spent in bed, recovering from a rowdy night of drinking.

He contemplated going for a walk out on the town, or perhaps staying in and reading a book but he could not set his mind on one task. He wondered how Kylo was going to spend his day. Would he be irritated or delighted if Hux showed up in the sewers without invitation.

He wished Kylo had been more clear about when they would see each other again. When they’d parted last night, Kylo had merely bid him goodnight, kissed him on the cheek and then disappeared out the door of the roof, leaving Hux staring after him.

He was still contemplating whether it’d be too forward to visit Kylo without warning, when he noticed a familiar letter on his desk. He opened it with haste, and smiled when he saw what was written there.

 

_Dear Hux,_   
  


_It would give me great pleasure, if you would meet me by the stables at 11am today._   
  


_Yours,_   
  


_Kylo_

 

It looked like Kylo was just as eager to see him.

 

...

 

He was surprised but pleased to find a carriage waiting outside the stables, a bored horse pawing into the ground. He assumed the figure holding the reigns of the horse was Kylo, as his entire face was shrouded by a hood.

“Kylo?” he asked.

The figure – Kylo – merely nodded, as if he were afraid someone would hear his voice and rip off his hood.

Hux let himself into the carriage and made sure to open the flap towards the front of the carriage, so he could talk to Kylo. He felt the carriage nudge to a start.

“Where are we going?” Hux asked.

“Patience,” Kylo replied, and Hux was sure he was grinning.

“Must you always do this?” Hux complained, though he, too, wore a smile.

“I know it doesn’t vex you as you pretend it does.”

Hux didn’t answer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. They rode for a couple of minutes in silence before Hux asked, “I thought you never left the opera house?”

“I don’t. But attending the masquerade had no disastrous consequences, and I thought, perhaps if I’m careful, maybe I can go other places too.”

Hux felt his heart rise at that. “We’re not going to another party are we?”

Kylo laughed. It made Hux feel even lighter. “No, far from it. I’ve had enough of parties to last me a century.”

“I agree.”

“Where would you go then?”

“My options are still very limited but…”

“But,” Hux urged when he trailed off.

“Parks,” he said sheepishly. “Gardens that sort of thing. Places where there aren’t so many people. I rarely get to see any green inside the sewers except for the hue of the water.”

“I know of a few decent gardens around here,” Hux said. Whenever he ventured on walks, there was a particular garden he loved to walk through. It was quiet and without any pressures of the opera house. “Are we going to a garden now.”

“No, it’s not as pleasant as a garden, but somewhere I need to visit nonetheless.”

Hux spent the rest of the ride pondering what Kylo could possibly mean by that, and watching Kylo as he took in the sights along the way. The way his eyes widened with wonder at particular sights, such as birds nesting in a tree captured Hux’s attention like nothing else could.

It wasn’t long before the carriage rolled to a stop and Hux looked out the window of the carriage. He was surprised to see they’d stopped outside a graveyard. He heard Kylo get out of his seat and opened his own carriage door and got out of the carriage.

“The cemetery?” he asked, confused.

Kylo came up to him. Hux lifted up and removed the hood. He was still wearing his mask under the hood. Hux didn’t see why the hood was necessary, but Kylo looked uncomfortable.

“A place I always thought I’d visit if I got the courage to leave the opera house, was my mother.” Kylo looked out to the graves.

“She’s buried here,” Hux said.

Kylo nodded.

Hux took his hand in his and squeezed it. “Then let’s go see her.”

Kylo squeezed his hand back and led him through the graveyard. He looked behind every now and then, as if to make sure no one was following them.

Seeing all the graves, lined up in row after row reminded Hux uncomfortably of no matter how hard he worked, how much he achieved eventually he was going to end up here, along with the people who did nothing with their lives.

Kylo’s mother was buried inside a large crypt, betraying her wealth. Kylo fell to his knees when they entered the crypt, his hand slipping from Hux’s.

“She always thought she was doing the best for me,” he whispered. “She hated leaving me in the sewers but she had to.”

“Why did she have to?” Hux scowled. “Why couldn’t she retire to a home and hide you there.”

“This opera house was her life and at first, I did live in the opera house with her. Everyone knew of me, that cursed, demon child of Organa’s. One day a group of the opera patron’s got very drunk and decided to see if they could burn the curse on my face out of me. I barely escaped, and when my mother heard what happened, she knew she had to hide me, for my safety.”

Hux felt himself burn with anger. “What bastards.”

“She told them all, the whole opera house, that I’d died of the flu, and none of them questioned it. One suspected, but I made sure he didn’t tell anyone,” he said, a dangerous glint in his eye. Hux felt a thrill run through him at the sight.

“You should’ve killed them all,” Hux said vehemently.

“If I could’ve gotten away with it, I would’ve,” Kylo said, standing up. “Part of me didn’t want to scare my mother away. Every visit from her was the highlight of my day.”

“How often did she visit?”

“At first, it was almost every day. But as the years went on, it was less and less, until she only visited every few months. It’d been a month since I’d seen her when she passed on. I wish I’d paid her more attention that day, but I was angry at her for taking so long to visit.”

“How old were you when she died?” Hux asked.

“Thirteen,” Kylo said.

Kylo had been on his own since he was thirteen, hadn’t had anyone care about him since then. The thought pulled at Hux’s heart.

“Surely, she would’ve known she was dying,” Hux exclaimed. “Could she not have put you in the care of someone else?”

“Who else?” Kylo snapped. “Who else would willingly take care of a child like me?”

“That is their weakness, not yours!”

Kylo looked away, staring at his mother’s tomb.

“What of your father then?” Hux’s own had been a nightmare but for as much as he’d been disappointed in him, he’d never abandoned him.

Kylo laughed bitterly. “He left before I was even born, but if he’d stuck around, he certainly would’ve left once he laid eyes on my face.”

“You don’t know that.”

Kylo looked down. “Don’t pretend, Hux. Don’t pretend that you’re not the first person whose seen my face who hasn’t been disgusted by the sight of it.”

Hux didn’t know what to say to that. Kylo was right and Hux hated that. “This world is vile and I wish I had no part in it,” Hux said. “I would burn it to the ground if I could. Just to let you see the light of day.”

Kylo looked back up, his eyes ancient in their sadness.

Hux couldn’t bear to see the sadness in his eyes so he kissed him, slow and sweet.

Kylo pulled back, the right side of his mouth pulled upwards, just enough to suggest a smile was in the realm of possibility.

“What were your parents like?” Kylo asked.

Hux froze. No one had ever asked him that question before. And never had he wanted to be honest about them. He didn’t know where to start. “My father was a stern man, with high expectations. I suppose I can thank him for my ambitions, but it is the only positive affect he had on me.”

“You two didn’t get along?”

“Not in the slightest. He didn’t believe singing was a worthy pursuit and he was disappointed that I was not bulkier and stronger. He was an army general you see, and he wanted me to be one too.” Though he hated his father, Hux found him hard to talk about.

_Not that you would’ve made a good one, you would’ve died in the first skirmish._

“I could see you giving orders.” And there was Kylo’s beautiful smile. “But I can’t imagine you not using your voice. How did you even get lessons then?”

“My mother. She arranged for me to have secret lessons with an old tutor of hers. She believed in my voice and what I could become.”

“She sounds like a decent lady,” Kylo said.

“She was,” Hux said. “I…I miss her sometimes. She was the only person, aside from you, who genuinely wanted me to succeed in the way I wanted to succeed.”

“When did she pass on?”

“When I was fifteen. Of the accursed flu.” Hux remembered that day as clearly as the present day. His father not letting him anywhere near her, _You’ll catch it too you stupid boy, perhaps I should let you to suffer the consequences of your own stupidity._ Sneaking into her room, only to find that she had already passed.

Hux had attempted to shut himself in room for a week after that, but after a couple of hours, Brendol came in and forced him to attend lessons.

“Is she buried here, we could go visit her,” Kylo started to move towards the entrance of the crypt, but Hux grabbed at his arm.

“No, she’s buried on my old estate, and I would rather have Poe be the goddamn star of the opera than step a foot back there.”

“It seems we both have hate for our fathers.”

“I keep finding more and more in common with you,” Hux mused.

“It’s incredible isn’t it,” Kylo said, taking his hands in his. “I didn’t think anyone could understand me the way you do.”

“And I you,” Hux said.

A passion seemed to light in Kylo’s eyes. “Don’t you ever want to leave it all behind? To live life on our terms. To not let people decide whether we’re worth something?”

Hux couldn’t deny that he had. “Well yes, but I can’t achieve my dreams on my own. My singing is worth nothing if no one can hear it.”

“I would hear it,” Kylo said softly.

“Are you seriously proposing that we…”

“No, Hux. You’re the star, that’s where you belong. I just…it’s nice to think about sometimes.”

Hux thought about it. About the two of them going off on their own, with no managers to decide Hux’ fate and no sewer for Kylo to live in. They could be themselves with no limits.

It was an appealing idea, but an impossible one.

“It is,” Hux said. “But you’re also right in that it’s impossible.”

“We just have to cherish moments like this,” Kylo said, reaching a hand up to stroke Hux’s face. Hux leaned into the touch.

“Yes,” Hux agreed, “If there’s one thing this whole situation has taught me, it’s to appreciate things as they come, and god do I appreciate you.”

Then he leaned in and kissed Kylo. For the first time in his life, he was content with what he had. And nobody could take neither his role nor Kylo from him.

He dared them to try.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find zaera-d's amazing art for the chapter here: https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/zaera-d/183552304532

Hux was alarmed when he received word from Maz that the managers wished to meet with him again. Every time he’d met with them so far, it’d been to critique him on his performance. Usually, they compared him to Poe, stating that Poe did this better, or that he should ask Poe for advice. He was irritated at how fast his heart was beating when he knocked at their door, that their approval meant so much to him.

_They speak the truth, and you know it_ , Brendol hissed in his mind.

Krennic answered the door with a smile on his face. It was terrifying. “Come in,” he said.

Galen too, looked pleased but there was still a hint of worry touching his eyes. “Now Hux, there’s been a change of plans,” Galen told him.

“Take a seat,” Krennic said.

Hux gritted his teeth. “I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Hux crossed his arms, not liking where this was going at all.

“Now you have done a marvellous job covering for Poe,” Galen said uncertainly. “But it’s about time that Poe came back.”

“Came _back_?” Hux said incredulously. “Wha—I have been the star of this show for months now! The public knows me. Poe…He can barely walk!”

“No you see, we’ve thought of a way around that,” Krennic said.

“Which is?” Hux gritted his teeth.

“Well the main part for the performance is that of a king. It struck me yesterday that many kings never leave their thrones. So if we have him carried around the whole performance, no one will question it!”

Hux couldn’t believe it. They were really doing this again. Taking his position away from him. There was no way he could reign in the anger now. It bubbled forth from him like tsunami.

“You would rather have a star who can’t bloody _walk_ than me, someone who can sing and dance better than anyone else you have here,” Hux shouted, almost shaking with rage. “ _I_ have brought this opera house an audience. _I_ have stared in this show. _I_ have brought you the profits you so desire!”

“You don’t have a patron, if you did maybe we could consider keeping you in the star role. We cannot say no to such generous payments from monsieur Finn.”Krennic shrugged.

“You disgust me, prioritising money over talent,” Hux spat.

“Monsiour Hux, please...” Galen stood, trying to appease him.

“No, no I will not.” Hux shook his head wildly. “I have worked myself to the bone every day for you and what do I have to thank for it? A couple of scattered performances that will soon be forgotten by the public.”

“You are lucky we instated you as the star at all.” Krennic shot back. “If Monsiour Poe had not been so unfortunate, you would not have experienced even that.”

“And you still do get a lead role,” monsieur Galen said, plucking a bunch of papers from his desk and handing them to Hux. Hux realised it was the new script. “You will be playing the rival to Poe.”

“A lead role.” Hux started laughing. It was an ugly sound, born of contempt. “How can you think I can possibly be satisfied with just a lead role?”

“Your time will come,” Galen promised. “You’re still quite young…”

“No.” Hux realised. “No, it won’t.”

No matter what he said to them they were always going to pick Poe over him, always. It didn’t matter how hard he worked. Or what he did to sabotage Poe, short of killing him. And then they would pick someone else to replace him with so it would be pointless.

He would never be the star.

“Hux.” Galen put a hand on his shoulder. “You were only ever the understudy. This was only meant to be temporary. One day you will be the star, but today is not that day I’m afraid.”

Hux took a step back, shrugging Galen’s hand off. “There’s nothing I can do to change your minds, is there gentlemen?”

Galen shook his head.

Krennic simply said, “no.”

“Well I suppose that’s that then,” Hux said, still seething. “I will see you in rehearsal.”

He took off for the door, not caring what they had to say about his rude departure. Before his mind had even made the decision to do so, his legs were carrying him to Kylo.

Every step Hux took was loud and forceful. When people saw him approach, they immediately stepped back as if he were the grim reaper coming for a surprise visit.  
Poe, that utter fiend. How DARE he be given the role on a silver platter while Hux had to risk his freedom just for exactly the same position. Had Poe done something extraordinary in a past life, saved some orphan children or saved the planet from implosion? Hux knew he himself wasn't exactly the most compassionate man, but surely his lack of general empathy didn't warrant this.  
  
What would it take for the managers to treat him as he did Poe? If it were to adopt Poe's easy-going nature Hux had no chance in the world.  
  
_You'll never be good enough for them._  
  
For once Hux agreed with the ghost of his father. The managers had never liked Hux and they never would. Was it all hopeless then? Should Hux just give up his singing career altogether? They were never going to let him be the star, not for more than five minutes anyway.  
  
Hux's heart sunk at the thought, but then his fists clenched with resolve.  
  
No.  
  
Hux would not let them win. But he wasn't going to play their sick game anymore. He would play by his own rules. It was just a matter of defining those rules.  
  
Throughout the long journey down the tunnel and on the boat, Hux wracked his brains for a plan, one that was foolproof. His heart, rather than being forlorn, raced with possibility. He would make them pay, but how?  
  
He had just reached Kylo's platform, when it became clear exactly how to solve the mess he was in. A thrill shot through him and all of his thoughts became tangled in a struggle to solidify the plan, to make it practical. He was so focused on his plan, that he didn't get out of the boat, merely stood in it, still holding the oar, his body still but his mind a frenzy of activity.  
  
"Hux!" Hux could practically hear the grin Kylo was wearing. "I wasn't expecting you."  
  
Hux got out of the boat and walked over to Kylo. Kylo gave him a brief kiss in greeting.  
  
"I have some bad news," Hux said, gritting his teeth.  
  
As much as his plan thrilled him, he wished it wasn't necessary in the first place.  
  
Kylo's smile faded, his brow furrowing. "What happened?"  
  
"The managers thought it fit to give away my role to Poe yet again."  
  
"Those bastards," Kylo growled, his dark eyes glinting. "I'll kill them."  
  
“I should’ve seen it coming, I should’ve expected that they’d hire Poe no matter what. Even lame, he is apparently a better performer than I.” Hux sat on Kylo’s bed, furious with the managers and himself.

“This cannot stand.” Kylo paced back and forth. “I will get your position back for you, Hux. You deserve it so much more than that talentless bastard.”

“I…I don’t want it anymore,” Hux said.

Kylo stopped pacing and stared at him, eyes widening. “You…what…but Hux you have such talent. It’s your dream.”

“I don’t deny it’s been my dream since I was old enough to know what dreams were. But why should I wait for these clueless managers to decide that my singing is worth something? Their opinion means nothing to me.”

“But your fans, the fame, the glory?” Kylo sits beside him, taking his hands.

“None of those things really mattered to me, Kylo.”

“Then what does?”

Hux sighed. “For my singing to be recognised, to be appreciated and these managers are never going to let me have that. So I don’t care anymore. Let them have their talentless star. I know I am better than him and that is all I need.”

He wasn’t just saying the words for Kylo’s benefit, he really felt it. He could no longer hear his father calling him a failure, a waste of space. He knew he wasn’t and so his father’s words had no power over him anymore.

“You’re going to let them win, just like that?” Kylo asked, still dumbfounded.

Hux shook his head. “No, not win. These managers have not seen the last of me.”

Kylo’s eyes lit up. “You have a plan for revenge?”

“The beginnings of one, but it needs to be refined if it is to truly work.” He handed Kylo the script for the performance that Galen had given him. “I believe this may help us.”

Kylo smiled. “I can see this is going to be no small act of revenge.”

“I want the whole opera house to know of my displeasure.”

“They will, Hux. I promise, they will.”

 

...

 

Their plan was risky and foolhardy and Hux absolutely could not wait to enact it.

It would be a number of days before they could put their plan into action.

The managers wanted to give Poe a couple of days to rehearse before having him perform in front of hundreds of people.

It was the night of Poe’s first performance that Hux would have his revenge.

While attending rehearsals had been agonising in the past, watching Poe bask in the attention and glory that should’ve been his, in the lead up to the big plan, they were almost satisfying. Poe wouldn’t smile as whole-heartedly if he knew what Hux had planned.

What was even more satisfying than Poe having no idea, was Finn having no idea. Finn had come up to him during a rehershal and said to him smugly. “Karma is a fine thing, isn’t it, Hux.”

“Oh, it is,” Hux said. He smiled, politely but not kindly.

“You know that if you sabotage Poe again, they will put you in jail. There’s no possibility that you can get away with it again.”

“I never sabotaged him,” Hux said.

“Don’t play me for a fool. You have gotten your dues, I only wish they had been harsher. If I had my way you would’ve been kicked out from the opera house for the first incident.”

“Go buy the opera house then. You certainly have enough gold for it. It’s what you do to fix all your problems isn’t it?”

Finn spluttered at him and then walked away, fists clenched.

The only person besides Kylo who had the slightest inkling of what was going to happen was Phasma, who Hux had pulled aside after one rehearsal and warned her not to attend the upcoming performance, to pretend she was ill.

He knew she wouldn’t betray him, not yet anyway. She would wait until the act had been undertaken and Poe was out of the way before she would out him, but unbeknownst to Phasma, there would be no point.

Phasma had stared at him, almost smiling. “Well, now I’m dying to go.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Hux said.

“What will happen if I do?”

Hux didn’t answer, he simply walked away. As much as he’d like to gloat about his plan, she couldn’t know too much.

 

 ...

 

When the night of the performance did arrive, Hux found himself nervous.

There were so many things that could go wrong with his plans. So many eventualities they could not plan for. But stronger than his nerves was a sense of deep satisfaction.

The managers were going to pay for wronging Hux.

All the people backstage were a blur as they hurried around him, Hux was too focused on running over the details in his mind.

He knew the plan better than he knew himself, but it didn’t hurt to go over it again. He was still thinking of the details when he was called up to perform, even when hundreds of eager faces stared back at him.

The thoughts only melted away when he began to sing.

Even if the song meant nothing, if it would become forgotten in the chaos that was to follow, Hux could not bring himself to do anything but let the song overtake him as it always did. The crowd seemed pleased by the performance, clapping loudly and exuberantly when the final note left his lips. He grinned at them all, feeling his shoulders lower. He could do this. They could do this.  
As soon as he left the stage, he made for the dressing rooms. A few of the other actors were donning their gear, talking animatedly to each other. Hux walked right past them, retrieving his next costume, the tasteless grab of a peasant.  
  
He changed into the costume with haste, making sure to remove his pistol from his original costume. The simple white shirt and faded brown pants felt itchy, but Hux paid the unpleasant sensation no mind. Thankfully, the pants had pockets big enough to conceal his pistol. He took a seat at the vanity, going over the plan again.  
  
His breath quickened. Soon, very soon, it would be time. He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard a knock on the door.  
  
“It’s time,” the stagehand said gruffly to Hux. “The rest of you are on in ten minutes.”  
  
Hux made his way over to the stage again, taking in deep breaths. It was now or never.  
  
When he walked out onto the stage his eyes were not on the large crowd or the large portrait he was made to stand beside, but the other side of the stage. His heart thudded as he waited to see if the first step in their plan had worked. Then a group of cast members dressed as servants, carried a large golden throne onto the stage. On that throne was someone dressed in the finery of a king.

The throne got closer, and Hux let loose the breath he had been holding. He could recognise Kylo’s figure anywhere, even disguised as it was beneath layers and layers of fabric and a large golden mask.

It appeared Kylo had been successful in knocking out Poe and hiding him somewhere backstage. The first part of their plan had evidently been a success. Now, is where the fun would begin.

The servants carried Kylo to the righthand side of the portrait and set the throne down, before dancing off the stage. Now, it was just he and Hux on the stage, the only thing between them, the large portrait. The portrait was of a woman, beautiful with large blue eyes and wavy golden locks. She was intended to be the focus of the duet that Kylo and Hux were about to sing.

But the portrait meant very little to Hux.

When he opened his mouth to sing, words of “chasing away darkness”, he felt the song as he never had before. Perhaps because he knew this was going to be his last performance - there was no going back from what they were able to do. Perhaps it was because the words actually meant something to him. Regardless of the reason, the words poured from him as if they were a natural extension of his body.

_“Say you’ll love me every waking moment.”_

Kylo’s eyes burned with the intensity of a fire and Hux couldn’t keep his own eyes off them.

His heart leapt when Kylo raised from his throne and began to sing his part, delighted to hear the gasps of shock from the audience.

_“Wherever you go, let me go too.”_

Kylo walked up to him so they were barely two feet apart. They sang boldly to each other, the song a love letter of its own. No words, no gestures of love could compare to emotion laid bare in this song. Nothing could keep them apart and nothing ever would. A loud disapproving murmur could be heard in the audience and Hux revelled in it. Part of him wished that Kylo would come up behind him and touch him as if no one were watching at all, perhaps even kiss him on the neck, so they could really give the crowd something to whisper about. 

As they sung the final verse, Hux took Kylo’s hands in his, this time to furious whispers, and led him up the staircase, to the faux balcony. On the balcony, they sung their final line, their faces so close, they were barely a kiss away.

_“That’s all I ask of you."_

The final note faded from their lips, and they stared at each other, breathing heavily, twin smiles on their faces.

Never had he felt so alive.

Nothing could possibly compare to this moment.

Then Kylo did something that the two of them had not planned.

He kissed Hux right there and then.

Hux froze. All he could hear were outraged insults being thrown at them –

_Degenerates!_

_Sodomites!_

_Deviants!_

\- and people getting to their feet but then he pushed the voices from his mind, his body shaking with adrenaline and he let himself lose himself in the kiss for just a moment. For just a moment, Kylo was his publically, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Then he pulled back just to smile at the audience, revelling in the outrage on their faces, before Kylo pulled out his dagger and cut the rope connected to the chandelier. It was a beautiful thing to behold, the chandelier falling to the ground in a fury of crystal and bright light. The sound of it crashing to the floor was louder than every scream that pierced the room. The flames leapt up immediately, consuming anything and everyone in its path, too sudden for anyone within a few meters of it, to even consider fleeing.

It was incredibly difficult to pull his eyes away from the chaos, but he knew they were running on incredibly limited time, so he wrapped his arms around Kylo’s waist. As per the plan, Kylo grabbed the rope he had tied there hours previously, and they swung down to the left walkway of the theatre. Most people had abandoned their seats and were running for the exit, providing a perfect camouflage for their escape.

As they were moving with the crowd, Hux retrieved the pistol, resting it against his right leg. Kylo withdrew his own pistol and took Hux’s hand. A thrill ran through him when he glanced at the fire to see both of the managers being consumed by the flames. As soon as they made it out of the room, they bolted for the grand stairwell.

“You’re not going to make it out of here alive,” he heard Finn shout. Hux turned to see Finn running after them with a pistol. Behind him were five or six people, thankfully without weapons. Hux’s heart sunk when he realised one of them was Phasma. He pointed his pistol in their direction, letting Kylo pull him along to their destination.

“I thought we were friends,” he yelled. “I even gave you a warning.”

She gave him a sad smile. “The reward for your capture would be enormous. I am sorry, Hux.”

“What did you do with Poe?” Finn snarled at Hux, ignoring Phasma.

He and Kylo were almost to Hux’s room now.

“He’s unconscious backstage at the moment. If you’re lucky, perhaps you’ll be able to reach him before the flames do.”

Finn stopped for a moment, face contorting with rage. His crew stopped with him, staring at him curiously. Then he shoved his gun into Phasma’s hands and spat in Hux’s direction. “You will get caught, mark my words.”

Then he turned and ran back for the opera house.

As soon as Finn had gone, the remainder of his crew continued their chase. But Finn’s hesitation had cost them their capture. Kylo and Hux ran into Hux’s room, bolting the door shut behind them. They made straight for the mirror, to the sewers, to their salvation.

Unlike every other time, they had entered the sewers, this time they were not headed for Kylo’s lair.

They were headed for the outside world.

Kylo knew of a secret passageway to the streets of Paris, hidden behind one of the mirrors he kept covered up. Even if someone were to discover it, they would be long gone.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Hux exclaimed, still unable to grasp that their plan – their crazy foolhardy plan – had worked

Kylo squeezed his hand. “Many of them won’t live to spread the tale.”

“No I suppose they won’t.”

Kylo pulled him in for a kiss. “Come now,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

And so they did.

 

...

 

“Kylo, look at this.”

“Got another false lead on us do they.” Kylo smirked, reaching his hand out for the newspaper.

He was lazing about on their settee, raising his bare face to the sunlight that streamed through their open window.

It still ceased to amaze Hux how relaxed Kylo felt in their new home. Around a month ago, they had come across this abandoned cottage far from any cities or towns. No one would find them here, so far into rural London. And if they did – well – Hux had become quite handy with a pistol. In any case, it was necessary for hunting wild animals.

“Not this time.” Hux handed Kylo the paper.

Kylo’s eyes scanned over the title and he laughed.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said.

**Patron Finn Yavin Purchases and Resurrects Destroyed Paris Opera House.**

He then went on to read the article itself.

The article was essentially a tribute to how heroic Finn was, and Hux wasn’t surprised to see Kylo’s nose crinkle as he read it. According to the article, not only had Finn saved Poe, as well as a number of others, from the fire, but now he was allocating a sizable portion of his funds to resurrecting the opera house.

“I was really hoping they had both perished in the fire,” Kylo said wistfully. “Poe will truly be the star of the opera house for eternity.”

“I’m just happy the managers were unable to escape the fire.”

“Small mercies I suppose,” Kylo conceded.

Then Hux joined Kylo on the settee, taking Kylo’s face in his hands. “Finn can have the opera and Poe can be the star, I couldn’t care less anymore. Singing with you whenever I please, is all I’ll ever need.” He kissed Kylo’s cheek.

Kylo smiled at him. “Then let us sing.”

Hux smiled back at him. “Always.”

Then they began to sing.


End file.
